


The Pentachoron

by corzalaura



Category: Fifth Element (1997), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, a bit sexy times a t the end, and some explosions, but in the present and the supernatural is known, but it's predictable if you know the movie, but still a bit ooc sometimes, fifth element au, idea from a tumblr post (that I can't find anymore), small character death?, tried to keep the characters as ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corzalaura/pseuds/corzalaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Losing his job at the NSA, Stiles becomes a cab driver and tries to live an uneventfull life, when suddenly a beautiful stranger crashes into his cab. Now he has to search for a legendary supernatural weapon to keep the dark moon from rising above the nemeton and the evil alpha Deucalion from becoming more powerful. a Teen Wolf/5th Element Fusion</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The cab driver

Stiles woke up with a start. He looked around in his small apartement to ensure that he was actually safe and took a deep breath to calm himself. The nightmares weren't as frequent or as detailed as they used to be, but they could still make his heart race as if it was about to jump out of his chest and choke of his breath until he felt like he was going to die without being able to call for help. 

_Get fucking over yourself, Stilinski_ , he thought with a listless smile on his face as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

Next to his bed, the alarm clock bleeped in a fast rhythm. Stiles leaned over and turned it off and sat up on his bed. Tiredly, he rubbed his face, trying to clear his foggy head. He could already hear the soft morning sounds from New York swifting upwards from the already busy streets, while his cat sat impatiently outside his window, meowing loudly. The ring of his cellphone contributed to the noise and filled the small room with a commotion that Stiles was not willing to have before his first cup of coffee.

 "Yay yay yay yay yay, I'm up,“ he bellowed at the world and finally tumbled out of bed. "Alright, I'm up. God!“

 After turning on the lights in his one-room flat, he started the coffee machine with one hand and picked up his phone with the other. 

"Yes?“ he snarled into the mic as he opened the window to let the snow white cat inside. She easily jumped into the room and immediately started to rub herself against his legs, loudly begging for food.

 "Hey Stiles, Danny here", came the for this early hour way to cheery voice over the line. 

"Hey, sweety.“ 

"I love you, too, Stilinski, but we already declared in High school that you're not my type.“ 

"I was talking to the cat.“ 

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You still prefer your cat to the real thing.“

"At least, the cat comes back.“

"You're still pining after that son of a bitch? Forget about him, man, there are a million hot people out there.“ 

He pulled on a pair of rugged jeans, then turned towards the kitchen counter and started to search for a clean mug between all the sad leftovers from several dinners alone.

 "I don't want a million,“ Stiles mumbled, not really interested in discussing his past wrecked relationships with his high school friend slash direct supervisor right now. "Just want one. The perfect one.“ 

"Don't exist, Stilinski.“

 "Yeah, I know.“ He let out a sound of disgust, as he checked a cup and found a furry growth of mold inside. 

"What?“ Danny asked over the phone. 

"Just found a picture of you.“ 

"Uhh, how do I look?“ 

"Like shit!“ he answered smugly and hastily threw the cup back into the sink, telling himself once again, that he really needed to take care of the dishes. 

"Like the hottest shit“, his old friend said unfazed.

Finally, Stiles found a clean bowl and after deciding that it would be good enough to contain his coffee, he poured some of the black liquid into it. He tried to take a sip from the bowl, but he burned his lips before he could even take a sip and he dropped it back onto the counter, it's content spilling over the sides. 

"Listen, you gotta bring me your hack for the 6 month overhaul,“ Danny started in his supervisor voice. 

"Negative.“ 

Thinking, he could as well make some breakfast as long as his coffee cooled down, he grabbed a matchbox and turned on the ancient gas stove. He put the box into the back pocket of his faded out jeans and put a pan on the open flame.

 "A.S.A.P.“ 

"I don't need one!“ Stiles insisted and cracked his egges with more force than intented, some of the shell mixing up with the beginning of his scrambled eggs.

 "Hey, you forget I sat next to you a thousand times in that crap you used to call a jeep. I know how you drive.“

 "Danny, I'm a taxi driver for over a year now, I know how to drive!“ he sighed.

 "Last week, you ran over a bike courier.“

 "Hey, _he_ ran into _me_!“ Actually, Stiles had barely grazed that biker and it wasn't his fault at all, those suicidal maniacs where always coming out of nowhere. It was only a matter of time before one landed on his hood.

 "You know what, you need to learn how to lie better,“ Danny deadpanned. "See you tonight!“

 Stiles hung up and finally started to concentrade on his cookings, before everything started to burn.

 When he was full from bacon and eggs, a meal that he would never have cooked back when he still lived with his from a heart condition suffering father, he threw the dishes onto the last free space on the kitchen counter and got dressed properly.

 On the radio, the disc jockey was babbling on about some contest sponsored by some brand of cereals. Stiles snorted at the grand prize, which were holidays in California. He never understood peoples obsession with the golden state. He grew up in California and it wasn't always sunshine and rainbows. It had it's rainy days, just like every other state, but most of all it had it's incredibly hot, close to apocolyptic scenery days that Stiles could easily live without.

Dressed in old jeans, a dirty t-shirt and hoodie, he turned off the radio and left his flat. He skipped down the stairs and stepped outside into the warm sun. This was what Stiles liked the most about New York. The temperatures may climb high during the summer season, but no matter how stuffy it became between the cities large buildings, the weather never turned into the hell-like heat, that could melt his sensitive pale skin right off of his bones and turn him into a revival of the thrilling final of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

He turned towards the direction in which he had parked his taxi just one block away, when suddenly a man jumped out of the shadows between the brick walls and blocked his way. The first thing Stiles noticed was the gun pointed at his face, before the guy behind it started to talk.

 "Gimme your cash,“ the foul-smelling man said with a maniac smile through gritted teeth.

Stiles took in his dirty clothes and anxious appereance. The man licked his lip in a nervous manner and his hands kept shaking, no matter how much he tried to will them not to, while one of his bloodshot eyes twitched frantically. 

He must be a drug addict, desperately trying to get hold of some money to buy his next shot, Stiles seduced within seconds. His dad would be proud of him for being off duty for two years and still remembering all the knacks. No matter how much time went by, he was just like his father, once a cop, always a cop. Only that he probably wouldn't be proud at all right now, he would probably tell him, that he warned him this would happen, that he always knew that New York was a dangerous place full of murderers and thieves and that if Stiles wanted to get a break from all those violent crimes, he should not move to New York. At least, that's what he said when Stiles bid his goodbyes. 

"You've been here long?“ Stiles asked calmly with another look at the gun dangerously trembling in the muggers hands. 

"Yeah, long enough, now gimme the cash!“ 

"Is that a Smith and Wesson? What, did you kill a cop to get that or is the NYPD even more corrupt than they let on? That's the 5906, right?“ 

"Yeah! Yeah!“, the guy stuttered. 

"The safety catch is still on.“ 

The man laughed nervously as he looked down at his weapon. "What do you mean 'the safety catch is still on'?“ 

"You have to release the safety catch before you can shoot anyone.“ 

He let out another laugh, as if this all was just one big joke they both were in on, and started to tremble even more. One of his hands frantically stroke over the glossy steel, as he lowered the gun and tried to find the switch. 

"Take your time.“ Pointing one finger towards the weapon, Stiles tried to guide him. "You want me to-“ In a blink of an eye, the barrel was back pointing at his face. He slowly pulled back his hands. "Okay, okay.“ 

The guy looked again at his gun and finally found the safety catch. 

"There you go,“ Stiles commended and they maniac grin came back to the muggers face. 

"Gimme the cash!“ 

Rushing forward, Stiles grabbed the man's arms and pushing them to the right, turning the gunpoint away from the open space towards the building. In a swift motion, he stepped to the left and brought his foot behind his attackers leg, forcing the man to get down to his knees, and snatched the gun out of the drug addicts grasp. He weighed it shortly in his hands, instantly remembering the feeling of holding his own police weapon, before he whipped the grip against the mugger's temple. The guy crumpled down onto the dirty pavement. 

Straightening his clothes, Stiles looked up and down the street, but couldn't see any witnesses. _Typical for New York,_ he thought. _And even if there had been anyone, they probably had turned instantly around and taken another route to not get into any trouble._ For a moment, he contemplated calling the police, but then remembered the hours of waiting he would have to spend at the station. Making his mind up, he put the safety of the weapon back on and put it into the waistband of his jeans, his baggy hoddie hiding it easily. He would have to get rid of it later. Stiles took one more pitying look at the drug addict, who knelt babbling with his hands over his head on the concrete, then continued his walk to his taxi.


	2. the supreme being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I am not a native english speaker and my last english essay was a mess, so feel free to point out every mistake I made.
> 
> Anyway, here is Derek

For the very first time, he opened his eyes. Sharp light blinded him and he blinked in confusion, trying to make out his surroundings, as suddenly his new muscles started to contract and he arched his back and threw his arms and legs around in jabbed motions. His head starded spinning and he felt like he had forgotten something important, something very important.

Breath, he told himself. I need to breath!

He sucked in a deep breath, his lungs filling with air, finally supplying his body with the much needed oxygen. Now, he could hear his heart beating, jumping in a rapid rhythm inside his chest and pumping blood in high-speed through his veins. Behind all that, the sound of his own flailing and the shuffle of foreign feet.

One after the other, he noticed his other senses, too. Spicy smells filled his nose, as if someone was burning herbs, the smell of sweat, soap and... and was that anxiety or hope? Or maybe both. Together with his skin, everything was just too much to take in. He could feel the soft scratch of every bandage wound tightly around his body, the pattern of the wooden floor beneath him and every small stone grinding into his back.

His muscles stopped twitching at last and he gained control over his arms and legs. He stood up on insecure feet and soon noticed that he couldn't stand straight, because he was caught in a cage hardly big enough for him. With his back bend, he turned around in his prison, his hands stroking along the bars, trying desperately to find a way outside, but there was none.

He took hold of the bars infront of him and tried to calm himself to think more clearly, directing his focus on the outside of the cage. Several people stood around him, some of them were dressed in a military fashion, while the others wore dark silken robes. Runes were painted in a wet red on the ground and candles lit the room in an ominous light. He asked them were he was and why they held him captive, but none of them answered him. The man in the most resplendent uniform talked quietly, yet firmly, to a dark-skinned man in a cloak, decorated with golden ornaments, in a foreign language. With a confident air around him, the leader walked towards the cell, talking loudly in drawn out words he couldn't understand, and held a key infront of him. He looked at the item dangling from the strange man's hand and connected the dots in his head.

Taking a few deep breaths through his nose, he let his head hang low and concentrated on his inner feelings, trusting his instincts to decide the right next steps. Slowly, his skin started to prickle and he felt his muscles contracting once more, this time, shifting with purpose. He could hear the man shuffle closer carefully, trying to get a better look at him, all the while still gibbering, but it didn't divert his concentration. When he looked up, his eyes had changed, too. Everything seemed to be sharper, more in focus, and the hunter gulped audibly at the sight of him.

Instantly, he let his arm shoot out and grabbed the leader by his jacket. With all his force, he pulled him back. His head banged loudly against the bars, the noise mingling with the clang of arms, as the other hunters raised their weapons. He kept hold of the man and used him as protection, as he snatched the key out of his hand, opened the door to his prison and stepped outside.

With one arm around his human shield's neck, he searched for a way out, but he was surrounded by hunters. In his desperation, he looked up at the ceiling. It seemed to be made of multiple boards hold up by ridges. If the room had one weak point than this was it.

Snarling at his opponents, he pushed his hostage towards them and used the distraction to jump on top of the cage. With all his force, he punched against the ceiling, surprised as the board was easily blown away by his fist, as if it had just been resting on top of the ridge. Not contemplating this long, he pulled himself up into the small space between the panels and the concrete ceiling. Suddenly a shot rang through the air and he felt a sharp pain in his leg, but he didn't slow down and within seconds, his whole body was hidden in the ceiling liners. It was dark and dirty, dust and spider webs clung to his body as he crawled past, while pipes and lose wires obstructed his way, still he kept moving forward.

Beneath him, he could hear the hunters shouting, the voice of their leader clearly standing out from the rest of them. Still, no one shooted again, and he was very glad about that fact, because he was sure that the cardboards couldn't stop a bullet. The pain in his leg was still there, but he could already feel the skin closing and the graze wound healing rapidly.

The boards began to creack dangerously under his weight. At his next move, his hand suddenly broke through the board, his whole body following gravity. He yelped in pain as he crashed to the floor. At once he was on his feet again, ignored his aching bones and rushed along the corridor he had fallen into.

He skittered around a corner, when all of a sudden he found himself infront of two uniformed men. Gasping for air, he came to a slithering halt. The hunters stared at him for a moment, shortly shared a look, and then bolted towards him. He promptly turned around ran back down the corridor, the two men on his heels yelling after him.

Searching for cover, he dashed through a door and found himspef in a small office. The walls were lined with large bookcases and he knocked one over to barricade the way inside. In the middle stood a solid looking desk and he thought about hidding underneath it, as his chasers rattled at the door. When they noticed the barrier behind it, they began to throw their whole body weight against it in order to push it away. His eyes quickly scaned the room for any other exit but there was no other except for the large windows lining the opposite walls.

He crossed the room and opened the nearest window. Cold wind blew across his face as he leaned outside and marveled at the sight of houses taller than trees and the amount of cars and pedestrians hurrying along the deep urban canyons. Everything was so loud and dirty and fast and so, so alive.

A loud bang behind him stirred him into motion and he climbed outside onto the windowsill just the moment the hunters stormed into the room. He pressed his back against the wall and cautiously put one foot infront of the other, slowly moving forward until he reached the end of the side of the building, which was also the end of the windowsill.

He flinched as the window closest to him was pulled open, but found his balance again quickly. Another hunter leaned out of it, his face twitching into panic as he saw him standing on the edge. He began to speak in a calm manner and held his hands out in an unthreatening way, beckoning him back inside.

He looked the man up and down, taking in his armor-clad clothes and the lethal weapons he was carrying. This man wasn't to be trusted. This was not was safety looked like. But how would he know what it really looked like? What did he know anyway? He looked down at the street deep below him and suddenly a thought pierced his mind. The alpha. He had to find the true alpha. He'd know what he had to do, what his purpose was in this beautiful, but dangerous world he had just been born into.

A flight of pidgeons winged past him with loud flaps. He followed their path with his eyes, as they flew between the skyscrapers away, and he calculated his only options. Having his decision made, he spread his arms, closed his eyes and let himself fall forward.

 


	3. the true alpha

Stiles was yelling at the red light to turn fucking green. He was glad he didn't have a passenger right now, so he could let his anger out freely. Actually, he didn't have any passengers yet, but a fuck ton of red lights and road works that all kept him from getting fast to Manhatten, were the most people would be waiting for a taxi right now.

On normal days, he found the job alright. Sure, the cab smelled funny and most of his passengers were crazy, but he liked driving through the city, not having to think about anything at all except maybe how to bypass the traffic jam during rush hour.

The light turned green at last and he took the left-hand turn without blinking. The Little Tree on his rearview mirror swung from side to side with the movement and the hawaiian bobble doll on the dashboard moved her hips in a fitting rhythm. The little, busty woman in a hula rock had been a gift from his best friend Scott. They may have not talked to each other in ages, since he had become some kind of spiritual leader of his super secret werewolf club Scott didn't have much time for him anymore, but he still considered him as one of his closest friends. Not that he had that many to begin with.

He stepped on the gas to gain speed, when suddenly a nasty bang came from the back of his car, the roof bulged in and the rear window shattered. Startled, he slammed his foot down on the break, the backside of his car breaking away and forcing the cab to drift into the oncoming traffic. He yanked the steering wheel around, just barely dodging a furiously honking SUV. The whole cab quaked as one tire bumped onto the sidewalk and then finally came to a halt.

Stiles let out a pant of breath, his heart still hammering in his chest. The little bobble doll rattled vigorously on his dashboard. He massaged his neck with both hands and then unbuckled his seatbelt. „I can't believe it“, he said to himself, chuckling humorlessly. Grunting, he turned around in his seat and inspected the damage. The top of the car wasn't just bent in, but pierced through and the shards of the broken rear window were scattered around. "Any survivors?“ he asked without expecting any answer from his backseat.

His heart jumped when suddenly a man came into view behind the passenger seat. He was starring at Stiles with big bright eyes, his face dazed and anxious. Stiles heart jumped once more, as he starred back at the stranger who had literally just fallen into his cab. The man was a living greek statue, his whole body ripped and every muscle well-defined. His tanned skin was glistening with sweat and streaks of dirt were painted across his face and body. Stiles watched in fascination, as the man's wounds healed right infront of his eyes and left nothing but dried blood, revealing that he must be werewolf. He was practicaly naked, except for the thick, white bandages covering all the important parts and straining against the mass of muscles in his arms and legs. His black hair was tousled wildly and Stiles felt the overwhelming urge to comb his fingers through it. Stubble covered his strong jaw and his full lips were slightly parted, revealing the cutest bunny teeth Stiles had ever seen. Over his dark eyes were thick, expressive eyebrows, raised in anticipation, but what really took his breath away was the honest and open expression on the man's face.

"Hi,“ Stiles breathed, smitten by his passenger. The adonis flinched back, his wary eyes not leaving Stiles. "You okay?“

A frown crossed the stranger's face, the furling of his bushy eyebrows making him look like a lost puppy, and if Stiles thought he had been stunned before, his heart was melting faster than the polar ice caps now. He couldn't help but smile, which seemed to persuade the man to trust him enough to start babbling in a strange language that Stiles didn't even recognized. He talked fast in a smooth voice, shortly turning around and pointing at a tattoo of three joined twirls on his back. Flailing his hands around, he continued talking gibberish, at one point punching the seat infront of him and startling Stiles, but the taxi driver's smile didn't falter and he leaned further in intriguied, trying to understand what the strange man wanted to tell him. Moving his arms by his sides, he mimicked running away, and then pointed his finger to the roof, depicting his fall by letting his fingers sketch out a line downwards.

"Nee el uh deendo. In gjel uh boom,“ he ended his story, illustrating a crash with his hands, and then looked expectantly at Stiles.

"Boom, yeah.“ Stiles nodded encouragingly. "I understand boom.“

The werewolf pointed at the hole the back of the car he just had crashed through. "Bu duh boom.“

"Big,“ Stiles helped him and smiled as the man tried voicing the word himself. "Yeah, big bada boom.“

"Big. Bada big boom. Big! Boom!“

Stiles chuckled at the man's excitement. "Yeah, boom! Big bada boom!“

They chanted the words together until the stranger let out a soft laugh. Stiles watched him delighted and then huffed.

"You know, werewolf or not, you're lucky you're not dead.“

The shout of an authoritative voice snapped them both out of their interaction and had them noticing the small group of uniformed man standing with raised weapons next to the car. Instantly, Stiles noticed the badges on their chest marking them as specialized in werewolf-related crimes, so called hunters. Stiles could never get along with that group of law-enforcement back in his days. Most of them were just buff dummies who liked to brag about the last time they had taken down a werewolf.

"This is a police control, please keep your hands on the wheel,“ the officer said firmly. „You have an unauthorized passenger in your vehicle. We are going to arrest him.“

Slowly, Stiles turned to the front and did as he was told. "Sorry, bud. Looks like you gotta go with your friends.“

"Ak duh.“

"Do as they say.“

"Ak duh,“ the man repeated, nervously looking around.

Stiles kept his look forward, his eyes avoiding the rearview mirror in which he could see the man getting more and more anxious "Sorry.“

Slumping back in his seat, the man's face darkened, his eyebrows drawn low in defeat, as the hunters moved closer.

"Plase, help,“ he said in an unsure voice gazing pleadingly at the back of Stiles head.

"I have to get back to the garage and report the damage. If I'm lucky, they'll give me another hack and I can keep my job, but only if cooperate, do you understand?“ He tried to show his sympathy through his voice, talking in an apologizing tone.

"Pla-, please“ The man whispered. "Help.“

Stiles took a look at him through his rearview mirror and his heart nearly shattered at the defestated look on the man's face. „I can't“, he insisted, but his voice sounded uncertain even to himself.

One of the hunters had taken hold of the door handle and the frightened man shuffled along the backseat and pressed his back against the opposite door, getting as much space between himself and the officer as possible. Stiles watched the werewolf, the wheels in his head turning fastly. He didn't strike him as someone dangerous, especially not someone who would need six hunters to be arrested. Sure, he appeared dark and tough, his muscles alone telling people to not fuck with him, but he when the werewolf talked in this smooth voice of his, kittens were born and rainbows crossed the sky. The police wanted him because of a misunderstanding, a typical case of language barrier, and now the guy was terrified because he didn't even know what he did wrong. Well, no matter for what reason he was about to get arrested, Stiles instincts told him that he was actually a good fellow and he probably didn't deserve this treatment.

The officer opened the door and pointed his weapon inside, demanding of the man to slowly come outside. He turned his pleading eyes once more towards Stiles. "Help.“ Stiles sighed, but put the car into first gear. "Danny's gonna kill me,“ he muttered to himself and stomped the gas pedal down to the floor. The officer stumbled backwards, yelling angrily as the car shot forward. His colleagues had to jump out of the way to not get run over.

"This is so stupid.“ Promptly breaking the speed limit, he wriggled his way through the traffic, zigzaging between the other cars and then taking a sudden turn, the tires squeaking in a high pitch. The open door was flapping uncontrollably by the cars side until he cornered sharply into another street and it banged forcefully closed.

Confident to have gone rid of the hunters by now, Stiles slowed the cab down. "I think we're off the hook,“ he told his clearly relieved passenger. A silver car overtook them and a sign started to flash in it's rear window, telling him that it was the police and he should follow it.

"Well, to err is human. Hang on“ he said unimpressed, pulling the handbreak and then taking a sharp u-turn. He speeded down the street, another car close on his heeals and the silver one quickly catching up again. The man started babbling again in that foreign language, his voice high and urgent, but Stiles couldn't understand a word.

"Look,“ he called back over his shoulder. "I only speak two languages, english and bad english!“

Veering around several corners, which had the man tumbling across the backseat, he directed the car onto smaller sidestreets. He drove slalom around the dumpsters and cars parked in the narrow street, then pulled into the entry of an underground parking structure. People had to jump out of the way, as he drove through it in full speed, taking sudden turns between the parked cars. His fare was shouting angrily on the backseat, which he had no right too in Stiles opinion, after all, he was saving the sucker's as.

"Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for conversation, but maybe if you could shut up for a minute!“

With a satisfied grin, he watched as one of his chasers couldn't take the corner tightly enough and crashed into a pillar. The car parc's security guard furiously flipped Stiles the bird, as he dashed through the exit back onto the street. The silver car chased right after him, the blue emergency light flashing on the roof.

"What did you do to piss these guys off?,“ Stiles wondered louldy as he looked in the rearview mirror and watched the hunter leaning out of the window and aiming his gun at them. "I think they are _really_ pissed off. Hold on!“

He slammed the brakes, the taxi's bumper and the silver car's shortly smashing against each other, forcing the silver car off the lane as the hunter tossed half way out off the car's window, and then before quickly gained speed again.

"I think we'll be safe for a while,“ he sighed triumphantly and drove back onto the lager main street.

A traffic light before him turned red and he halted behind another car to wait for it to change back to green. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he thought about what to do next. He knew a great place were he could hide the cab to gain a little bit more time before the cops could find them again. They couldn't drive around with a taxi that had just been turned into a cabriolet without attracting attention. And then they had to go to a lawyer, or even better, the embassy of whatever fucking country the good looking guy came from. Maybe he was brought here against his will, forced to work as a male hooker and now he was charged for prostitution. The skimpy outfit would support this theory.

Stiles was about to try to get any informations out of the man he had just safed, when he noticed bustled movements in the car infront of them. The windows were lowered down and hunters leaned out of both sides. Stiles cursed loudly as he saw the heavy weaponry in their hands. He ducked down just the moment the hunters started to fire. The bullets blew through the windshiel, shattering the glass and sending shards flying everywhere. The werewolf readopted his angry shouting, this time muffled by his arms thrown protectively over his head. Without looking up, Stiles changed the gear and drove forwards. The taxi bounced as they slammed into the back of the other car, still Stiles continued to push the hack forward and shoved the cops' car onto the crossroad. The shooting ceased and the police men started yelling, followed by a loud crash as another car crashed into their side. Without hesitating, Stiles sat up, put the car into reverse and drove away.

Taking a few detours, Stiles drove as quickly as possible to the best hidding place he could think of. He had been to the old warehouse before, when he had wanted to get rid of his e-waste and found that the owner of the recycling yard had gone out of business but didn't bother to clear out the depot.

He parked the car in the back of the depot between two high racks full of dusty CRT-monitors and pulled out his cellphone to google the closest embassy.

"We just gonna wait here for a little while until things quiet down, if you don't mind,“ he informed his passenger, while his fingers tapped at the phone's screen. He didn't get an answer and slowly Stiles noticed that actually no sound at all came from behind him. Alarmed, he turned around and saw the man sprawled over the backseat, lying worryingly still.

"Hey,“ Stiles tried to get a reaction, but he didn't move. "Shit.“

Hastily opening his safety belt, Stiles climbed over his seat into the back of the car. He turned the man onto his back and let out a sigh of relief as he blinked his eyes open.

"You okay?“

The guy noded his head, but the pain and exhaustion clearly showed on his face.

"Alpha,“ he whispered weakly. "You don't need an alpha, you need a doctor,“ Stiles told him sternly. 

The werewolf didn't seem to understand him. "McCall,“ he said so soft, Stiles could hardly hear him. 

"What?“ he asked confused.

"Alpha.“ He watched Stiles expectantly, then his eyes turned into the back off his head and he slumped unconcious back down on the seat.

For a moment, Stiles paniced. The police was searching for him while he was hidding in a dumpster with a comatose werewolf in his scrapped cab and all he had to work with was _alpha_?! Wait, did the handsome stranger say McCall? There was only one person he knew who went by the name McCall and conveniently he was an alpha!

Improvising, Stiles covered the hole in the back of the taxi as good as he could with cardboards. _This would be so much easier if the goddamn werewolf and his superstrength could help me_ , he thougt, as he broke the rest of his windshield out of the frame with some firm kicks. The car still looked as if it belonged in a wrecking yard, but at least it didn't make the impression as if they had just been shot at.

When he finally arrived at Scott's apartement complex, the taxi parked out of sight in the backstreet, he was confronted with another problem. The musclebound werewolf was way to heavy to be easily carried. With his arms slung around the man's torso and his feet feet dragging on the floor behind, Stiles pulled him through the lobby into the elevator, thanking God that no one was there to witness what probably from the outside looked like the kidnapping of a drugged up dude. Panting heavily, he managed to reach Scott's door and knocked against it with his food, afraid to drop the man, if he'd hold him with just one arm.

Scott opened with his patented sunshine smile in place. It crumbled immediately as he saw Stiles carrying a passed out stranger and was replaced by a look of dissapointment.

"Dude, you can't just bring your drunken boyfriend here and expect me to take care of him just because this is a shelter for stranded werewolves.“

Stiles put his foot in the door way, just as Scott was about to shut it infront of his nose. "He's not my boyfriend, he's my fare,“ he said irritated and squeezed past Scott inside the roomy flat. The main room was as messy as always, a bunch of books lying scattered around, empty boxes of take-away food were piled on the coffee table and foreign symbols were drawn at the walls. "And he's not drunk. He said he needed an alpha, mumbled your name. I thought you might know him.“

"Okay,“ Scott huffed with his nose scrunched up. „But I don't know who he is.“

Seeing Scott's confused thinky-face, Stiles explained fast, before his own patience wore off. „No one knows who he is, no phone, no ID, nothing. But he has this tattoo on his back.“ Grunting, he turned the man in his arms around and Scott stepped closer intrigued. He took one look at the symbol tattood into the man's skin, before his eyes buldged and snapped back to Stiles face.

"The penta-, penta- choron,“ he stammered as his gaze became unfocused. Fainting, he fell backwards and landed with a painful sounding thud on the ground.

Stiles looked at his passed out friend and then turned his eyes to the unconcious werewolf in his arms. Another sigh, it seemed like the thousandth today, puffed over his lips.

"Danny's gonna kill me.“

With some effort, Stiles heaved the man onto the brown leather couch and then took care of Scott. He slumped his best friend into the worn armchair and softly patted his face. The boy didn't stirr, not even as Stiles began to call his name. Growing impatient, he lunched out and slapped him across the face.

"Hey! Scott! Wake up!“

Scott's eyes shot open and then squinted bewildered.

"Stiles, what are you doing here?“

"I brought the guy, remember?“ he said with a nod towards the couch. "Mr. Muscle.“

Coming back to his senses, Scott jumped up and walked over to the other werewolf.

"He's dropped in on me,“ Stiles continued to explain. "Speaking in this bizarre language.“

"It's not bizzare!“ Scott broke in as if Stiles had just declared that Batman was nothing but a lunatic playing dress up. "It's the devine language, the ancient language!“

"Yeah, okay,“ Stiles tried to appeal him and avoid a rant, but it seemed like Scott was just about to begin.

"Spoken by the werewolfs before they lived under humans. The wolf-“ He broke off his passionate speech and stared at the man. "The wolf's a man.“

"You noticed that, huh?“ Stiles couldn't help but comment.

"Yeah,“ Scott answered happily, not noticing the sarcasm in Stiles voice.

"It's a miracle!“

"A miracle he's not dead.“

"We- we have not a moment to lose, wake him up,“ he stuttered again and turend to walk away, but on a second thought adressed Stiles again. "No, but- but gently! Because this man is mankinds most precious possession.“ Stiles scrutinized his babbling friend as if he had lost his mind. "He's perfect.“

He turned around and dashed into another room, leaving Stiled alone with the mysterious man.

"Perfect,“ he huffed, reconsidering that he always thought he was the only bisexual in his circle of friends. But Scott was right, he was perfect. Infact, the man was so perfect, he seemed to have past this measurement and set a new, far higher bar for the word.

He leaned over the man and soflty stroke his cheek, the dark stubble tickling the back of his hand.

"Hey, Mister, wake up.“ The werewolf didn't stir and Stiles wondered how he was supposed to wake this sleeping beauty gently, when suddenly it striked him. He looked back over his shoulder to the door Scott had just disappeared through, licking his lips nervously. Satisfied to see that he was alone with the man, he leaned down, his heart's beat speeding up at the mere thought about what he was going to do. Tenderly he pressed his lips against the stranger's, enjoying their softness.

Suddenly he felt something pressed against his temple. For a second he turned completly rigit, before he opened his and slowly backed off, the weapon at his head following his movements.

"You're right! You're right, I shouldn't have done that,“ he tried to appease the just awoken werewolf holding him at gunpoint. His face lit up bright red in embarrassement. He didn't know what he had thought, this must have been one of his stupidest ideas ever. "I shouldn't have done that I, eh, it was wrong to I kiss you.“

"Eto Akta Gamat!“, the man spit through his gritted teeth, snarling at the back of his throat. He was half wolfed out, his eyes gleaming in an ominous red and his teeth growing dangerously sharp. The gun, Stiles had completely forgotten that he still had with him, was held in a sure grip in his hand.

"He told me to wake you gently,“ Stiles defended himself weakly, but the man didn't seem to understand his reassuring and angrily repeated the same words again.

"You're right, you're right! Yes,“ Stiles said fast, slightly worried about his own well-being, if he was honest. Even without the weapon, there were a hundred ways this buff werewolf could kill him, so he thought about the only nonverbal way he knew to calm a fuming werewolf down. Careful to not move to quickly, he leaned his head back and bared his throat.

For a short moment, the man watched him appraisingly, his gaze switching between Stiles vunerable neck and his brown eyes, before he took a wary step back. His eyes turned from a burnging red back to a soft green and his teeth changed back to the perfect line of pearl whites that could star in a toothpaste commercial, yet he still didn't lower the gun.

"You remember me from the cab,“ Stiles tired further to gain his trust again. "Remember? Bada boom? Big bada boom?“

"Boom,“ the man parroted, his doubt clear on his face.

"Boom! Big bada boom in the cab. Here look.“ Stiles reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his business card, holding it out infront of him. "I drive a cab. This is me, Stiles Stilinski.“

Eying the card as if it could harm him, the werewolf kept his defensive stand and then squinted at Stiles in suspicion.

"Stiles. Do you understand? Here,“ he said and reached out the card further to hand it to the man. "You take it. Go ahead. You can call me when you learned to speak english.“

The man seemd torn, his eyes switching between Stiles and the small piece of paper in his hand. With cautious steps, he came closer, not letting the gun loose it's aim, and reached with his free hand for the card. Smiling playfully, Stiles pulled his hand back, just the moment the man's finger touched it and then hold it back infront of him. The man reached out again, but Stiles pulled back a second time, making the man growl in irritation.

"Just kidding,“ he interjected quickly, letting the the man finally snatch the card out of his hand. "I'm kidding. And you, uh- What is your name?“ Instead of a reply, he got a quizzical stare. "Stiles,“ he repeated his own name, with his hand pointing towards himself and then waving it at the man expectantly. The hand holding the weapon started to relax slightly and after a short tim of hesitation, the man finally answered.

"Der Ek Salus Tri-Noctiluca Therion De Healh,“ he said in one breath.

Stiles needed a moment to process those words first. "Good. That- that whole thing's your name, huh? Do you have a, uh, shorter name? Not duhduh duhduh duhduhdu,“ he accompanied every syllable with moving his hands further apart, then, with a whizzle through his lips, brought them back together, only leaving a small space between them. "Short!“

The werewolf's eyebrows were drawn close in concentration, trying to find out what was asked of him. His unsure answer was just short of a whisper. "Der Ek.“

"Derek!“ Stiles face lighted up at being so good at overcoming their communicating issues and finally knowing the stranger's name. He was so bumped up, that he couldn't stop repeating their names like a bad imitation of Tarzan and Jane, when suddenly Scott bursted through the door, dressed in a dark, silken robe with the same twirled sign as Derek's tattoo embroided in shiny silver on the front. His beta Isaac followed him on his heels like the goddamn good puppy he always was.

At the sight of the two werewolfs, Derek let out a relieved sigh. The two stopped short as they saw the gun in his hand that was now pointed at them. Isaac's eyes bulged out in shock, but Scott regained his composure quickly and held out a small, round box with the same symbol carved into the wooden lid.

"Scott, are you sure she's a supreme being?“

"Absolutely sure,“ the alpha assured Isaac, his eyes fixed in glee on Derek.

"Old friends! Great,“ Stiles broke the tense moment and stepped forward to take the weapon out of Derek's hand, immidiately facing the barrel again and raising his hands in surrender. "Yeah, you're right. Listen," he turned to Scott. "Could you ask him if I could have my gun back, please?“

"Why do you have a gun?“

"Because I'm a cop.“

"You're a taxidriver,“ Scott said unimpressed and then took Stiles by his arm. "Anyway, you were right to bring him here, because he's a werewolf in need and we can help him, but you're not and you can leave, because now he needs some rest because he's been on a long trip.“ Using his werewolf strenght, which Stiles found incredibly unfair, Scott pulled him towards the door.

"Yeah, I know, I was there when he landed,“ Stiles deadpanned.

A low whine could be heard from the main room, as Stiles was shoved out of the flat.

"Wait! Hey hey hey, wait! Scott!“ he yelled before he could lock him out. "Listen, he said something that I didn't understand right. I didn't understand anything, actually, but what does Akta Gamat mean?“

Scott looked at his friend in confussion, but answered anyway. "Nekta- eh, never without my permission.“

"That's what I thought,“ Stiles said to himself, as the door was thrown shut in his face.

The cab nearly collapsed before he arrived at home. "I shouldn't have kissed him“, he mumbled to himself, still emberrassed to have been held at gunpoint for stealing a peck. Even if Scott hadn't thrown him out, he would never get a chance with the handsome man again. Hell, he still didn't know anything about the guy, except for his name, but Scott had been as happy as a kid at christmas. It was obvious that he knew more, but as always with his stupid werewolf club, he didn't tell Stiles anything about it.

Bugged that his best friend had once again left him out, he stamped into his flat in a foul mood. As if on cue, the phone started ringing and the cat greeted him with loud meows.

"Oh no, sorry,“ he said tiredly to the little furball. "I'm so sorry. I forgott your food! How about a nice Thai nosh to apologize, huh?“ He walked over to the couch and fished the phone from the cushion. "Yeah! Yeah! Hold on!“ Reading the caller ID, he gathered his secret superpower to bullshit his way out of trouble, which he had nurtured from a young age on.

"Danny!“

"Hey buddy...I'm waiting all day here. Where's the cab?“ Danny's voice couldn't have sounded more irritated.

"Car's running fine, purring like a kitten,“ he told him a little too rushed.

"Fine?“ Danny snapped. "What fine? I know you, Stiles. Fine isn't even in your vocabulary. Now come on, you can tell an old friend what happened. What, you tried to save the planet?“

"Listen-“

"You ran over a bike courier again, right? You ran over a goddamn bike courier!“

"Danny, I was on my way over to see you, when a big fair fell on my lap,“ Stiles told him in an even voice, trying to calm his fuming supervisor. "You know, one of these big fares you can't resist.“

"Huh,“ Danny huffed in suspicion. "How big?“

Stiles couldn't help it as a broad smile slowly spread over his face. He ran a hand over his eyes and let himself drop down on his bed. With a deep breath he thought back to Derek, his beautiful body and his even more beautiful face. Absentmindedly, he stroke his free hand's fingertips over his belly, as he began to describe his "big fare“ to his old friend.

"6 feet, green eyes. Muscles all over, great skin. You know... perfect.“

"Uh huh, I see,“ Danny said a little less sour and obviously more interested in Stiles love life than tearing him a new one. "And this perfect fare, he got name?“

Stiles sighed dreamily and pillowed his head on his arm.

"Yeah. Derek.“


	4. the sacred stones

Derek gnawed off the last bit of chicken from the bone in his hand, his eyes fixed on the bright screen infront of him. With his face strung up in concentration he absorbed every bit of information that the computer had to offer, klicking from page to page, reading every article with inhuman speed.

Scott and Isaac watched him in awe from a corner of the room, none of them daring to disrupt the other werewolf, who was still dressed in nothing but Scott's old bathrobe after having taken a shower.

"What's he doing?“ Isaac finally asked his alpha with a hushed voice.

"Learning our history,“ Scott answered without taking his eyes of the creature that he had waited all his life to meet. "The last 5000 years that he missed. He's been asleep for quite a while, you know.“

They watched in fascination as Derek clicked on a page about material art and raised his arms in a simple imitation of the fighter's pose in the pictures. Startled, they took a step back, as he suddenly jumped up and carried his empty KFC bucket towards the open kitchenette. He dropped it with the gnawed off bones into the waste bin, before he turned towards the table and started to rifle through the fast food that Isaac had hurridly brought to appease the supreme being's hunger. Not knowing what exactly the werewolf liked, he had bought a lot of everything, which turned out to be the right decision, since Derek seemed to like to eat a lot of everything.

With one eye on their guest, Isaac turned nervously towards Scott. "Alpha, I know he's been thorugh a lot, but we don't have much time."

Scott blinked as if he's been awaken from a trance and teared his gaze away from Derek, who had picked up another bucket full of fried chicken and walked back to the computer. "Yes, you are right. Uh, you get him some clothes while I talk to him.“

Complying his Alpha's command, Isaac rushed out of the room, as Scott slowly walked towards Derek.

"I'm really sorry to interrupt you, but uh-,“ he said carefully, as he sat down next to the pentacholon. He was already engrossed in the pc again, wolfing down another chicken wing, and didn't show any other sign of listening except for raising an eyebrow in Scott's direction.

"The- uh, the case,“ Scott said, trying to deliver how urgent this topic was. "With the stones.“

Finally, Derek looked up at him, his gaze stern and concentrated.

"Where is it?“

"San Agamat chay bet... envolet!“

"The case was stolen?!“ Scott repeated in shock.

Derek nodded his head unfazed and continued to chomp away on his chicken wing.

"Who in God's name would do such a thing?“

Before Derek could answer, Isaac stumbled noisily back into the living room, his arms full of clothes.

"It's- uh, it's for the supreme-,“ he stuttered and pointed a nervously shaking finger at Derek. He came forward and stumbled over the carpet, dropping all the clothes infront of the older werewolf.

"Oh, sorry. I- I didn't know your size, so I just-“

Derek watched him with curious eyes. "Danke,“ he mumbled unsure, still trying to get the hang of the human languages.

Scott got up from his seat and paced up and down the room, his face scrunched up funnily as he hardly tried to think. "Yes, there was a blind man with a cane. Came here about a month ago, asking all these questions about the stones. He said he was an art dealer. What was his name? I'm so bad with names.“

He shrugged and turned towards the other two werewolfs. Derek was digging through the pile of clothes, pulled out a dark pair of jeans and gave Isaac a fond smile.

"Danke,“ he said once more, before he dropped the bathrobe and suddenly stood butt naked in the middle of the room. Scott and Isaac stared with big eyes at the wolf, who seemed to have absolutely no problem with being nude infront of them, before they both quickly turned arround embarrassed.

"They really made him-“

"Perfect,“ Scott finished his beta's sentence. "I know.“

"McCall, ikset-kiba. Me imanetaba oum dalat!“

Scott slowly turned back around. Derek had already put on the pants and now tried on a blue and orange stripped tee shirt. It was way to tight for the buff werewolf and if Scott was honest, the bright colours looked a bit ridiculous on the mighty being.

"What did he say?“ Isaac asked as Derek tried on black tee shirt in a bigger size.

"He said he knows exactly were they are.“

"San Agamat crexu.“

"What do you mean the case was empty?“ Scott asked in disbelieve. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. The stones were supposed to be in the case and the case was supposed to be brought to Beacon Hills, to keep the dark moon from rising.

Derek started to explain in the werewolves' old language and Isaac looked at Scott expectantly, who quickly began to translate.

"He says the emissaries never really had much faith in humans. They were afraid of being attacked. The stones were given to someone they could trust who took another route. He's supposed to contact this person in a little less than twelve hours from now.“

Stunned, Scott turned towards Derek. "Yeah, but who do you have to meet?“

"Banshee,“ Derek said with a hard accent.

"Banshee?“ Scott and Isaac shared a puzzled look, neither of them understanding what he was trying to say.

Derek rolled his eyes and turned towards the computer. Using only his index finger, he slowly tiped something into the search engine and then pointed at the site that came up as a result.

The two men were surprised, but finally understood, as the webpage of Lydia Martin loaded, the infamous opera singer, scientific genius and beautiful banshee.

It took them an hour before they figured out where they could meet Miss Martin as soon as possible. Her next performance seemed to be at the Los Angeles Opera, ticket prizes ranking from 500 $ upwards.

"I got it,“ Isaac said triumphly as he showed Scott another webpage. "Everything here we need to know about the LA Opera and a detailed blueprint of the entire opera house!“

"Good work, dude!“ Scott praised him and excitedly shook Isaac's shoulders. "Now, all we got to do is find a way of getting in there.“

"It's not gonna be easy, her show is sold out for month and with all the celebrities watching it, it's going to be guarded like a fortress.“

"There must be a way of getting in there,“ Scott sighed.

A loud knock startled them out of their musings. Isaac jumped up to get the door, but Scott pushed him back down on the chair.

"I'll get it.“ He walked past Derek, who sat grim looking on the couch and teached himself to use Isaac's cell phone, and opened the door just wide enough to stick his head through.

Four werewolves stood outside, a pair of young twins, a barefooted woman and an intimidatingly big guy.

"Y'all stranded werewolves?“

The four wolves shared a disapproving look, before the tall man spoke up.

"Not really. Deucalion would like to talk to you.“

"Deu- who?“

"Deucalion.“


	5. the big mission

Stiles opened the door as soon as the door bell rang. He had waited nearly an hour for his favourite thai restaurant to deliver his food and by now he was so hungry he was ready to put his cat in the oven. The same asian delivery boy as always held Stiles big order infront of him and gave him a bright smile.

"Your food, Mr. Stilinski. And your mail had dropped onto your doormat.“

"Thank's, Kevin,“ he said and took the bag full of cartons and the two letters from him. He swiftly turned inside to drop everything on the kitchen table and then came back to pay for it.

"You not gonna open it?,“ he asked Stiles. "Could be important.“

"Yeah,“ Stiles huffed as he pulled out his wallet. "Just like the last onces were important. First one was from my doctor. Told me I couldn't continue working for the NSA because of my PTSD. The second one was from my boyfriend who didn't want to be in a relationship with an unemployed nutjob.“

"My, that is bad luck“, Kevin said sympathetic. "But my grandfather always said, it never rains every day. This one's good news, give it to me. I bet you lunch.“

"Okay,“ Stiles agreed, picked one of the letters from the kitchen table and handed it over.

"Come on!“ Kevin made grabby hands and snatched it out of Stiles grasp. Eagerly, he ripped it open and read the letter out loud. "You are fired!“

The smile on the boys face froze, but Stiles just rolled his eyes unimpressed. He knew he couldn't keep his job with the shape his cab was in, no matter how long he and Danny had known each other.

"I'm sorry,“ the delivery boy said and Stiles started to get irritated by the boys pity impression.

He took the letter back and looked it over shortly, as his phone started ringing. "Well, at least I have a free lunch.“

"Good philosophy! See good in bad, me likey.“

Checking the caller ID and seeing his father's number, Stiles immediately answered. They had a routine of talking to each other every sunday and his father seldom called on another day, except if it was an emergency.

"Dad?!“

"Stiles, boy, you got several broken fingers so you can't punch my numbers? I left you seventeen massages and don't tell me the machine is broken again, those things work for one thousand years.“

"Dad, what happened?, Stiles asked panicked as his father continued to babble about things he couldn't make sense of.

"I better leave you to it,“ Kevin said unsure and began to retreat.

"Yeah, thank you.“ Stiles closed the front door distracted, his full attention on his father's voice.

"I wanted to congratulate you, son! You've got to visit me, right.“

"Dad, what are you talking about?“ Stiles stressed out. The laugh that came from the other side of the line calmed down his nerves a bit.

"How can someone so intelligent be so dumb. You must have noticed it by now, the whole land knows about it except for you. New York must have numbed your senses, I knew it would be no good for you to move there. You need me to come over and straighten you up?“

"No, dad,“ Stiles declared irritated."I don't need you to come here. I need you to calm down and tell me what the fuck you're talking about. I just came home, I just smashed my cab, I lost my job, I got mugged. Beside that everything is peachy! Thanks for asking! Now would you settle down and explain this to me calmly?“

"Oh, so you don't know that you won a trip to Los Angeles for two for ten days plus tickets to Lydia Martin's concert. And I suppose you don't want to visit your old man even if you're gonna be in the same state as me.“

"If I had won a trip, I'd know about it,“ Stiles said confused. "Someone would have notified me.“ His gaze turned towards the kitchen table where the other letter lay.

"They've been blaring out your name on the radio for the last hour, you idiot.“

The door bell interrupted them and Stiles took a quick look through the peep hole.

"Dad, I've got to call you back“, he insisted as soon as he recognized the people outside. Without waiting for an answer, he hung up and opened the door.

Infront of him stood three hunters, two of them he knew all too well. Back when he worked for the NSA, he had to team up with hunters from the WCD on a regular basis.

"Mr. Argent,“ he greeted the men who was the head of the werewolf-related crimes department. "How nice to see you in this neighbourhood. Allison“, he nodded at the young woman, who waved back with a friendly smile and lovable.

"Hey, Stiles.“

"And, uh.. whoever you are. Are those hunters of yours getting younger and younger or am I so old?“

Chris Argent stepped inside, followed by his companions, and blatantly took a look around in the small room. "Nice apartement, agent. Looks like you're living a wonderfull life.“ Unabashed, he picked up the cup full of mold, scrutinized it's contents and than threw it back into the sink. He turned his piercing eyes towards Stiles. "Heard you lost your job.“

"You heard that, huh?“ Stiles responded unfazed. "Well, don't worry, I'll get another job.“

"Don't bother, we have one for you. Agent Stilinski, you're selected for a mission of the utmost importance.“

"What mission?“

"Save the world.“

Stiles laughed under his breath as the hunter kept talking.

"You're to leave immediately for Los Angeles. Retrieve three stones from the banshee Lydia Martin. Bring them back with the utmost discretion as possible. Any questions?“

"Yeah, just one,“ he replied in a bored voice. "Why me? I retiered two years ago, you remember?“

"Three reasons.“ Argent stretched out his arms towards the young woman. Allison Argent was Chris's daughter and a former partner of Stiles. They had worked a lot of cases together before his PTSD had forced him to quit his job and he knew that she was one of the best in her field. She handed her father a thick folder with Stiles' name on it and he opened it, lazily turning the pages.

"One: As part of The Special Forces Unit of the National Security Agency you are an expert in the use of all weapons and vehicles needed for this mission.“ He pulled out a long list and held it infront of Stiles, who didn't really need to see it, he knew all the weapons and vehicles he was able to use, thank you very much.

"Two,“ Chris Argent went on. "Of all the members of your unit you were the most highly decorated.“

"And the third one?“ Stiles asked without really wanting to know.

"You're the only one left alive. You checked your mail?“

"No, I've got enough good news for today,“ Stiles deadpanned.

"Might be important,“ Argent said without really paying attention to Stiles. He crossed the small space towards the kitchen table and opened the letter lying there. A giant pop-up card came into view, declaring that the receiver was the winner of the great prize.

"You have won the annual Cheerio's contest, a trip to Los Angeles and tickets for the banshee's great performance. For two,“ he read out aloud, not sounding one bit gleefull. "Here are your tickets.“

Without waiting for his reaction, he pushed the two accompanied tickets against Stiles chest.

"You rigged the contest?“

Argent nodded. "Congratulations.“

"You couldn't think of anything more discret, huh?“ Stiles contemplated as he examined the tickets.

"Old tricks are the best tricks, right?“ He put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Agent Argent will accompany you. As your wife.“

Stiles eyes shot toward his friend from another lifetime, a time he had tried to forget. "I'm not going.“

"Why not?“ Argent seemed to be genuinely perplexed.

"One reason. I want to stay the only one alive!“

Before Argent could respond, the door bell rang once again.

Paying his guest no mind, Stiles walked past the hunters and took a look through the peep hole. His heart took a leap when he saw the beautiful, grumpy face of Derek on the other side of the door. Derek, who should be with Scott and not alone on the streets, because the law is out searching for him. He turned around in panic and stared at the three hunters infront of him.

"Shit.“

"Who is it?“

"Huh?“

"Who is it?“ Argent repeated.

"Uhm, my husband,“ Stiles lied quickly.

"You married?“ Allison perked up.

"Yes. No! I just met this man, but I'm gonna marry him. I love him, but he hates all agencies. He knows that working for the NSA ruined me and he doesn't want me to have anything to do with it. If he sees you guys, he'll go berserk.“ His mouth ran a thousand miles per minute.

"Agent!" Argent tried to stop his rambling.

"You've got to hide. You've gotta help me, you've gotta hide somewhere!“

"Stiles!“ Allison yelled at him. "We'd love to help you, but this place is tiny, where can we hide?“

Stiles threw his head around in a frenzy, his eyes stopping on the old oaken wardrobe that he had wanted to get rid of ages ago, because it took in most of the space in his small apartement. He opened it hectically and pulled out the clothes to make room the hunters.

"Stilinski, we don't have time for this,“ Argent told him flatly.

"It's just- just one minute,“ he grabbed the third hunter by the arm and pushed him into the wardrobe, not caring about his loud complaints. "You have no idea how much you help me!“

Allison was pushed in next with a little less force needed.

"No idea! I'm gonna get happily married and I'm gonna invite you all to my wedding-“

"Stilinski!“ Argent shout out, as Stiles tried to squash him into the tiny space next to the other hunters.

"Stilinski!“

"What?“ Stiles paused his actions and looked at Argent pleadingly. 

"The three of us won't fit in there,“ Argent insisted.

"Sure you will!“

He closed the wardrobes door in the hunter's face and stemmed his wholde body against it. For a short moment, the three people inside moaned as they were fitted into the small space, but then they were thankfully silent. Stiles turned the wardrobe's key in case the hunters suddenly didn't want to play along anymore.

He looked at the mess that was his home. He couldn't let Derek in here. As fast as possible he gathered the dirty dishes from the kitchen counter and put them together with the clothes he had thrown out of the wardrobe into his fridge, which used to be always empty, anyway.

"I'm coming,“ he shouted, as the door bell rang once more. He rushed to the door, one hand combing through his hair, and opened it with a broad smile on his face.

"Apipoulai.“ Derek gave him a short nod and Stiles figured that it meant 'Hello'.

He raised his hand in a greeting of his own, when suddenly Scott stepped between them, holding a gun pointed at Stiles face. Stiles raised his other hand in surprise and slowly walked backwards, as the werewolves came inside, Derek closing the door behind them.

"Scott, what are you doing?“

"I'm really sorry to have to resort to these methods, Stiles, but we heard about your good luck on the radio and we need the tickets to the LA opera."

"If you wanted to go on the vaccation with me, dude, you could've just asked.“

"This isn't a vaccation, dude.“ Scott was wearing his righteous true-alpha-face and Stiles feared that his former best friend was about to do something stupid. "We're on a mission.“

"What kind of mission?“

"We have to save the world, Stiles.“

Stiles let out a laugh. "You gonna save the world?“

"Yes!“ Scott answered, angered by Stiles obvious skepticism.

"Well, good luck.“

Derek snarled at them before Scott could start a fight. With a gloomy face, he pointed towards the door. Despite the heads-up, Stiles and Scott jumped in alarm, as someone banged his fist against the front door.

With his muscles straining under his skin, Derek sniffed the air before he said curtly "Alphas.“

"Must be the same guys that took me to Deucalion today,“ Scott gulped.

"They can't see us with you, they can't know who you are!“

"Stilinski?“ an unfriendly sounding voice yelled through the door. "Open up, Mr. Stilinski.“

Jumping into action, Stiles pushed Scott down onto the ground and under his bed. Scott understood Stiles' plan immediately and disappeared within seconds. 

Then he pulled Derek by his arm into his tiny bathroom and steered him into the shower. "You are just my boyfriend, who can't come out right now, because he's taking a shower, okay?“ he told the man, hoping that he would understand that he needed to keep quiet. For good meassure, Stiles put his fingers against his closed lips and Derek mimicked his action. Content, that he will play along, Stiles pulled the shower curtain closed and went to open the door.

The angry alpha was still pounting his fist against the door and it nearly connected with Stiles face, when he opened it.

"I'm sorry, I was just about to get into the shower with my boyfriend,“ Stiles told the big werewolf who was flanked by a pair of twins. As if on cue, the sound of the running shower started.

The man suspiciously squinted his eyes at him. "Stilinski.“

"No, you must have rang the wrong doorbell.“

"Don't try to fuck with me, boy,“ the alpha snarled and his eyes started to glow in an alarming red, as he fisted the fabric of Stiles' tee shirt in hands and hauled him up.

"Ennis,“ a dark haired woman suddenly called from further down the hall. "I've got him.“

Stiles strained his eyes to look at the door she was standing infront of and noticed that someone had snitched Stiles name tag from his apartment and had sticked it to the other doorbell.

With a big, fake smile, Ennis let go of Stiles shirt. "I'm sorry for the interruption. Have a nice evening.“ He pushed the human back into his apartement and pulled the door shut.

Stiles leant heavily against the closed door and let out a gush of air. The loud bang of another door being kicked down suddenly resounded through the whole building complex. Stiles was ready to run outside and stop the werewolves when he saw Scott under the bed vigorously shaking his head. So he stayied put and listened helplessly, as the four alpha werewolves stormed in on his surprised neighbour, who angrily shouted at them and tried to shoot them with his shot gun. The turmoil of their fight turned down, as they beat him up and dragged him out of the building.

When everyting was silent again, Stiles first instinct send him into his bathroom.

"Derek?" he shout out worried, as he pushed the shower curtain aside.

The man stood shivering under the spray, fully clothed, the wet fabric clinging to his muscled body, and Stiles brain malfunctioned for a moment. Some stray droplets sprayed against his face and Stiles noticed that the water had turned cold. He eventually teared his eyes away from the mouth-watering sight infront of him and leaned over to turn of the water.

"Shit“, he said as he lead the quivering Derek out of the shower. "You took my words a bit too literal. Here, let me wrap you up.“ He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Derek's shoulders, rubbing it up and down Derek's arms, to dry him off and warm him up at the same time.

"Literal?“ the werewolf repeated after Stiles and he looked up into his eyes, finally noticing that he was practically holding the man of his dreams in his arms.

"Yeah, literal,“ he mumbled as he took in every bit of the other man. How he was only slightly larger than Stiles himself, how his eyes were neither really green nor blue or brown, and how silver water droplets ran down his nose and fell from it's perfectly shaped tip.

"You know what's funny? I met you twice today and both times you ended up in my arms. It's my lucky day,“ he smirked.

Derek stared back into his eyes, leaning into Stiles body heat, when another cold shiver shook his whole body.

"We've got to warm you up!“ Stiles announced nervous from the sudden intimacy. "I know what will warm you up.“

He lead Derek out of the bathroom and started to rummage through the dirty kitchenette.

"Tea. Some hot tea and you'll be fine again. You know, I never really drink tea, but my dad does, so I have some here in case he visits, which he never does.“

He found the unopened box of tea and threw one bag in a cup, then put it into the microwave. As the water heated up, Stiles looked at Derek, who watched him with wary eyes and immediately felt self-conscious again.

"Honey!“ he blurted out and kept himself occupied with his next quest. "Can't drink tea without honey. You'll see, honey's great. A hot cuppa tea with honey. That's everyone's cuppa!“ He cringed at his bad joke and became even more nervous under Derek's unyielding gaze. The microwave pinged, but he but he didn't notice in his haste searching for the honey.

"I've got this great honey somewhere. You know about honey? There are these little animals who make it and these other animals who eat it. Bees and bears, you know, but I forgot which eat it and which make it but- Here it is!“ he shouted triumphantly and held the jar up for Derek to see.

"It tastes great,“ Stiles said and took off the lid for Derek to see the jar's content. The werewolf scrutinized Stiles face, calculating, until something in his eyes shifted and he reached out his hand and pushed one finger into the honey. The human watched mesmerized, as he pulled his finger back out and put it into his mouth, slightly sucking on it. He savoured the taste slowly, his eyes narrowing with pleasure. Stiles could feel his cheeks heating up and he wondered how his face could still turn red, when he could feel all his blood rushing down into his lower body. He was entranced with the way Derek's mouth worked around his finger and when his tounge darted out to lick at the golden substance sticking to his skin, Stiles couldn't keep the whimper escaping from his mouth.

A loud gag yanked him out of his trance and he wrenched his head to the side, watching Scott scrambling out from under the bed.

"Dude, gross!“

"Shut up!“ Stiles squeaked embarrassed. "You could have said something way earlier. Besides, I never really liked that douche from 11B, but he surely didn't deserve to be trashed by a pack of alphas!“ Stiles spat out, disbelieving that his old friend could let this happen.

"Stiles, you have no idea who these guys are!“

They both stopped their argument when Derek suddenly started stripping and wringed out his still dripping clothes. They quickly turned around as he peeled of his wet jeans.

"You want some tea?“ Stiles asked Scott as they both kept their gazes straight forward towards the kitchenette, trying to think about anyting but the perfectly shaped, naked man in his home.

"Yes, please.“ Scott nodded and Stiles put up a towel to take the hot cup out of the microwave.

"It's not really my speciality, but you must live kinda healthy nowadays, since you're now a true alpha and all.“ He turned towards Scott, when suddenly a fist connected with his temple. The cup fell out of his grasp as his world turned black and he slumped onto the ground.

"Vano da, mechteba?!“ Derek shouted enraged at Scott.

"Soun domo kala chon hammas!“

"No, I'm not proud of what I did!“ Scott snapped back and grabbed the letter with the tickets. "But we don't have the luxury of choice. Now, come on!“

He stormed out of the apartement and Derek followed him reluctantly, throwing one more worried look back at Stiles.

Within a few minutes, the human came back to himself, woken by the sound of beating and shouting. Feeling kind of betrayed, he rubbed his throbbing head and then turned towards the noise, remembering, that a party of hunters was still locked into his wardrobe.

Putting on his most innocent expression, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. Three pairs of murderous eyes fixed him coldly.

"I'll take the mission.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allison, my sweet warrior princes, you'll stay alive in our fanfiction !
> 
> btw, I'm using a draft of the 5th element script as a help (I can't understand every word the actors say) and the thing with the honey was a scene they had in the draft  
> in case you'd like to read it, you can find the script here -> http://www.scifiscripts.com/scripts/5thelement.txt


	6. the real szczepan

Scott lead Derek through the crowd of people at the John F. Kennedy International Airport, scanning the hall for Isaac. They finally found him standing offside the check-in counter. The beta jumped in alarm as Scott put his hand on his shoulder.

"Dude, check your nose, it's just me.“

"Sorry, I'm just so strung up that I can't distinguish between all my senses.“

Scott gave him an understanding smile, but quickly went on with the important matters.

"Did you get them?“

"Yeah, I got them.“

They took a few steps to the side, away from the official's eyes. Isaac grabbed into his pocket and pulled out two fake ID's and passports for Scott to inspect.

"Derek Stilinski,“ Scott read the first set and gave it to the older werewolf, who scrutinized the items with furrowed brows.

" _Pass_ -pooort.“

"Szczepan Stilinski.“ Scott's tongue stumbled a bit over his best friends real name and Isaac looked at him doubtfully, not sure if he could pretend to be Stiles, if he couldn't even pronounce his real name.

Derek watched with a darkening face, as Isaac took the documents back.

"Akta dedero ansila do mektet.“

"No no, I can't be your husband. I've got to go to Beacon Hills and prepare everything for your arrival. Isaac is in great shape, he can protect you.“

Derek looked the beta up and down, clearly disapproving of Scott's plan.

"Now, please.“ Scott took the man by his shoulders to gain his full attention. "Go to the banshee, collect the stones and meet me at the Nemeton.“

"Okay“, Derek nodded slowly.

"Last call for flight 805 to Los Angeles,“ the computer voice loudly announced through the speakers in the great hall.

Scott watched as Isaac took Derek by his arm and lead him towards the check-in counter. Trembling nervously, the young beta pulled out the tickets and gave them to the check-in attendant.

"ID please,“ the woman said in a bored voice.

"Sorry,“ Isaac murmured flustered and showed her his fake documents.

"Mr. Stilinski?“

"Uh, yeah?“

"Congratulations on winning the contest.“

Isaac gave a sigh of relieve and then quickly faked a small laugh.

"Ha! Yeah, okay. Thank you!“

"Sorry,“ she said as she looked over his ID once again. "I'm curious, how do they pronounce you name?“

"My name?“ Isaac stammered and began to break out into a sweat.

"Yeah, your first name.“

"Oh, uhm. It's, uh, uh-“

"Szczepan,“ another voice exclaimed. Isaac whisked around and found Stiles standing right behind him with a bright smile on his face.

"Hey! I was so afraid I wasn't gonna make this flight, so I said, uh, Isaac here,“ Stiles told the attendant, stressing out Isaacs name and pushing the fake documents towards the beta. "should come and pick up my boarding pass, but now Isaac has to go.“

The blonde boy tried to object, but Stiles pushed him out of the way forcefully and took his place next to Derek.

"Thank you, Isaac! Bye!“

He watched the beta stumbling away hastily in search for Scott, before he faked another big smile and turned back towards the attendant.

"Hi, I am Szczepan Stilinski.“ He handed her his documents to prove his statement.

The woman looked a little confused, but checked him in nonetheless. Next, she pointed at Derek. "And this is?“

The werewolf quickly held up his documents. "Derek Stilinski. Passport,“ he said in an automatic voice and Stiles heart fluttered as he heard the other man identifying himself as his husband, even though he knew it was all just a farce.

He looked at the attendant, daring her to say something about how such a perfect creature could ever be with a spaz as himself, but she just smiled at the pair.

"Passport,“ Derek repeated and Stiles began to feel awkward as the woman continued to look at them expactantly.

"Passport.“

"Yes, Derek Stilinski. Passport.“

"Passport.“

"Yeah, she knows that it's a passport,“ he said nervously and grabbed the document out of Dereks hands to give them to the attendant.

"Derek Stilinskis, my husband. Newlyweds, just met! You know how it is, bump into each other, sparks happen.“

"Passport.“

"Yes, she knows it's a passport!“ he growled at Derek to stop him from trying to pronounce the word correctly over and over again. "Anyway“, he told the woman in a calm voice. "We are in love.“

As soon as they were checked in, Stiles rushed with Derek in tow towards the boarding gate. He didn't want to run into neither Scott, who would want to take his place and fly to LA with Derek alone, nor into Allison, who was supposed to play his wife on this mission and waited outside for his sign that he got the tickets back.

While they waited in line, his fingers thrummed impatiently against his leg, until a warm hand suddenly reached for his own. Taken aback, he looked over to Derek standing next to him. The werewolf didn't say anything, just intertwined their fingers, lightly squeezing them, and kept his annoyed expression to the front. Yeah, of course this meant nothing except that Derek was tired of Stiles fidgeting. 

He pulled his hand out of Derek's grasp, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, and pushed them into his hoddies' pockets. He could feel Derek's gaze glowering at the side of his face and was relieved when it was finally their turn. 

The stewardess took one short look at his boarding pass, before she fixed him with a gleefull smile that bordered on psychotic.

"Oh, Mr. Stilinski! We really need you right now!“ she said excited and waved another stewardess over to take her place at the boarding. With a firm grip on his arm, she pulled him along towards a door that had "staff only“ written on it.

He looked back at a confused Derek, who gave Stiles a small, unsure wave until the other stewardess approached him. With a broad smile, Derek held up his documents for her to see.

"Passport!“


	7. the disc jockey

"Mr. Peter Hale is the biggest radiostar in the supernatural society,“ the pretty stewardess told him as she lead Stiles through the corridors in the back of the airport. "It's a great honour to be on his talk show, he's so moon!“

With a hand on her shoulder, Stiles stopped her and turned her around. "Yeah, I'm sure you're very excited about the lunatic, but I'm on vaccation and I don't wanna be bothered. I'd prefer to be anonymus," he added remembering what Argent had told him.

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion in the corridor. Empolyees rushed past them, not paying any mind to their tasks anymore, loud shrieking could be heard and then a gulp of people came around a corner, all swarming around one central figure like little pilot fishes following a narcissistic shark.

The man, who could be no one else but Peter Hale, wore a tight outfit of skiny jeans and a nearly transparent, white tee shirt, accompanied by a grey sports jacket. His blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, his eyes shined like gold when he flashed them and a bleach white set of teeth gave him a predatory look everytime he smiled.

"Shazam Stilinski!“ he cried out as he laid his eyes on Stiles and strode up to him. "He is the one and only winner of the Honey Nut Cheerios' contest! This boy is fueled like fire“, the dj seemed to be speaking into the mike fastened to his head, as he leaned closer into Stiles personal space than the human liked. "Start melting, ladies, 'cause the boy's hoter than hot. He's hot! Hot! Hot!“

He continued his stride through the corridors towards the VIP boarding area without pausing his speedy monologue, his assistants pushing Stiles along by his shoulders.

"The right size, the right build, the right hair. Right on!“

They passed a line of young women hold back by security guards, all jittery standing in line, overanxious to finally meet their idol live. With a desperate cry, the first girl stretched out her arms towards him, but instead of giving her a friendly handshake or a nice hug, Mr. Hale reached out with his hand and let it glide over her breasts. "Right on, right on!“ Seren, he kept walking past his fans, letting his hand glide over everyones cleavage, while the females screamed in ecstacy, one of them even fainting.

"And he's got something to say to those fifty billion pairs of ears out there. Pop it, Shaz-man!“

All of a sudden, there was a microphone under Stiles nose and he looked horrified at the eager faces around him. For the first time in his life, his head was blanc, nothing there to say, and he was totally lost.

"Uhh, hi“, he said intelligently.

The radio host stared at him expactantly and Stiles wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground during the awkward pause that followed. At last, he pulled the mike away from Stiles' uncooperative mouth.

"Unbelievable!“ He pushed Stiles on with firm grasp on his upper arm and Stiles wondered if he noticed that he was using his werewolf strength on a mere human. "Quiver, ladies, quiver! He's gonna set the world on fire right here from five to seven. You'll know everything there is to know about the Shaz-man!“ he rushed out in a showmanish voice, halting infront of a big bosomed woman.

The curvy woman giggled like a schoolgirl as the dj leaned close to her and whispered seductively into her ear. "His dreams, his desires, his most intimate of intimates.“ At once, he jumped back around to face Stiles and shouted again in the cheeky tone of his. "And from what I'm looking at intimate is the stud muffin's middle name! So tell me my man, you nervous in the service?“

Stiles blinked at the mike as he searched for an answer. "Ugh, not really.“

Not looking pleased at all, but keeping his tone light, Mr. Hale linked his arm with Stiles', forcing him to keep up with the radio host's fast pace. Someone handed them a glass of champagne and Mr. Hale took a sip before throwing it carelessly away.

"Freeze those knees, my chickadees,“ he jabbered on. "'cause Shazam is in the place and he's all like _hey!_ Yesterday's fraught will be tomorrow's prince of Los Angeles! The city of angels, a thousand and one follies, home of luxury and beauty. A magic fountain flowing with non-stop champagne, women and _bam chicka wah wah_!“, he sing-songed in a high tune, thrusting his hips in rhythm. "All night long, all night!“

His dance stopped abruptly as his eyes crossed a young stewardess, who looked so stunningly beautiful that Stiles would have bet his comic book collection that she was a nymph. He shouted out a short howl before he bounced like a canine in heat towards her. "Beware out there, puppy dogs, my man is on the prowl. Owww!“

The youthfull woman blushed furiously as he leaned close to her, one hand grazing her hip as the other still clutched the mike. With a seducive voice, he breathed huskily right into her ear. "Start licking your stamps, little girls, this guy's gonna have you writing home to Momma! Tomorrow from five to seven, I'll be your voice, your tongue and I'll be hot on the tail of the sexiest man of the year. Shazam. Your man. My man,“ the werewolf finished with lick of his lips, making the enchanted woman infront of him quiver. Then he turned back around, resuming his way, and simultaneously yanked off the microphone from his head.

"End of transmission,“ one of his assistants barked and another one handed Mr. Hale a lit cigarette.

The dj dropped his pretentious smile and faced his assistants. "How was it?“

They stumbled over each other, trying to be the first to compliment him, and threw their hands in the air in awe.

"Wow!“

"That was so moon!“

"Perfect, just absolutely moonish!“

"Moon like what?“, Mr. Hale inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Incredibly moon!“

"Bright moon! Full moon“

"Silver december moon!“

He rolled his eyes in a bored manner while his assistants continued to find a more exaggerated expression and paused, when his gaze landed on Stiles. With a wave of his hand, he send them away. "Off. Off, off, off!“ Like flies chased away, they jumped up and skittered down the hall.

He walked up to Stiles with a strut and only stopped when he was close enough to blow his cigarette's smoke into his face. Stiles felt ready to strangle this annoying dick, but he tried to stay calm to not gaining even more attention than he already had. _Keep calm_ , he thought to himself, _maybe he's a normal guy as soon as he isn't on air anymore_.

"Shazam, sweetheart. What was that? It was _bad!_ It had nothing, no fire, no energy, no nothing.“ Hale snipped his fingers irritatingly into Stiles' face and the young man's skin started to crawl under the radio host's dirty look. "I've got a show to run and it must _pop, pop, pop!_ So tomorrow from five to seven, will you please act like you have more than a two-word-vocabulary! It must be moon, okay? Okay?!“ 

"Can I talk to you for a second?“ Stiles asked with a sigh and pulled him over into an empty staff room. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Stiles grabbed a pencil from the table close to the door and rammed with all his force through Mr. Hale's right hand. The disc jockey yelled bewildered as he was pinned against the wooden door behind them.  

"Shazam, you fucker!“ the werewolf spat out through elongated teeth and his eyes flashed a furious gold. Stiles silenced him by pulling the pencil out, blood rushing in a stream out of the injured hand, and held the red tinted tip infront of the dj's bobbing adam's apple.

"I didn't come here to play pumbaa on the radio," he told him, straining his voice to keep it down. "So tomorrow from five to seven you gonna give yourself a hand. Moon?“

"Moon,“ the werewolf said rushed as he cradled his fast healing hand to his chest. "Full moon!“

"And it's Stiles."

Still fumming, Stiles pushed Hale aside and scudded out of the room. He wondered how he was supposed to keep his mission low key when he had this ass of a radio host on his heels the whole time. He will have to make some plans to meet the banshee all by himself and receive the stones in secret, but first he had to find Derek again. On his own, he walked towards the VIP boarding gate to finally get onto the plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> creepy pete as the crazy radio host, don't tell me you didn't see this one coming


	8. the fourth dimension

Derek stretched out on the comfortable seat the nice woman in the skimpy uniform had pointed out to him. She had told him with glee that he had a ticket for the first class, but he didn't understand what supposedly was so special about the first class. He felt a bit lonely, because as soon as he was in the smaller front section of the airplaine, the woman had pulled a curtain behind them closed, shutting them off from all the other passengers. The only other person seated in the same area was a broad business man sitting right behind Derek. He wore an expensive looking suit and was engrossed into his news magazine, paying no regard at all to Derek as he looked back over his seat and greeted the man with a small wave the way he had seen other people doing it.

Instead of further trying to gain the suits attention, the werewolf sat back in his seat and took in his surroundings. A flat screen was embedded in the back of the seat infront of him and Derek wondered if he would have internet access to use the time spend during the journey to learn more about the humans' history. He inspected all the buttons on his armrest, trying to find out which one of them would turn on the screen when the stewardess with the friendly smile leaned down towards him, a tray full of long, thin glasses in her hands.

"We wanted to excuse ourselves, the plane can't start yet because there are to many birds on the runway right now. Would you like to enjoy a glass of champagne in the meantime?“

Derek was slightly proud that he understood almost everything she had said to him, even though he couldn't fully grasp what the birds had to do with the airplane's ability to fly. But they couldn't start without Stiles on board anyway, so he just nodded curtly and accepted the cool glass she handed him. The golden content looked fascinating with all the little bubbles rising to the surface and sprinkling slightly up into the air. He took a sniff off the champagne and the sweet smell tingled funnily in his nose. Curious as to how it would taste, he took a small sip. His lips puckered up at the stingingly sweet, yet somehow sour taste that filled his mouth, the prickling sensation way too strong on his tongue to be enjoyable. Still, he faked a thankful smile for the nice stewardess, who beamed back at him before she turned towards the other passenger behind him.

Taking the glass in his left hand, he turned his attention back to all the buttons on his seat. He pressed some of them, but nothing seemed to happen. He whelped, when he pulled a small lever under his armrest and the back of his seat suddenly went forward, forcing him to sit in a straight position. In fear of having broken something, he pressed his whole weight against the seat, trying to push it into it's previous position before anyone could notice his mistake. But instead of slowly reclining, the seat whipped back until Derek was nearly in a lying position, the backrest dashing against the stewardess, who was just serving the other passenger, knocking the tray out of her hands.

The man shouted wild profanities as the champagne soaked his expensive suit. Derek immediately pulled back his seat and whisped around. The stewardess was apologizing profusely and tried to dry off the champagne, but the man's face turned an angry shade of red. Another steward rushed over to clean up the shattered glasses.

"Sorry,“ Derek muttered rueful and the man set his furious eyes in him.

"Are you retarted or something? What a twat, look at my shoes, they're ruined. Ruined!“

Derek held out his own glass of champagne, the last one that was still full, as some kind of peace offering. The man stared at him in disbelieve, before he reverted to his shouting.

"Fucking werewolves! You're just a bunch of uncultured animals, I don't even know why they let you into the first class!“

With some kind words and gentle force, the stewardess persuaded the man out of the seat and towards the toilet, where he could clean himself up. Derek watched him leave with a bleak look. His mood immediately changed for the better as the man and the stewardess disappeared behind the curtain and a second later Stiles came out from behind it with an amused smile on his lips.

"Apipoulai!“, he greeted the human relieved.

"Not hard to find you,“ Stiles said with a smirk. "Just follow the chaos.“

He waved his hand for Derek to move over to the other seat and sat down on the werewolf's previous place. "Everyone should have the window seat at their first flight. I promise you, the view is breathtaking. Just don't break in the glass or we all gonna die“, he added with a wink of his eye.

Derek's spirit lifted as he saw that Stiles was in such a playfull mood. Wanting to impress the young man, he greeted him once more with a broad, white smile.

"Hi.“

The human paused in his fumbling with the backrest's adjustment and raised an eyebrow at Derek.

"Oh, you speak English now?“

"Yes. I learned.“

"Good,“ Stiles nodded to himself. He turned somber and started to fidget again. Derek wondered if he had accidentally said something wrong, but then Stiles took in a deep breath and looked at him with the same honest eyes, that had made Derek trust him the first time they had met in Stiles' taxi.

"Derek, we are not on vaccation. I'm on a mission, a very important mission. And I work for some very important people. If i hadn't come to get you you would be in big trouble, do you understand that?“

Derek nodded his head sternly.

"Do you understand big trouble?“

"Yes.“

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked into Stiles eyes, hoping to convey the same honesty as the human.

"You, no trouble. Me, pentachoron, carry fourth dimension. Me protect you.“

He laid his palm over the man's twitching fingers and intertwined them with his own.

"Sleep,“ the werewolf told him in a soft voice. Stiles forced his eyes away from Derek's to look down at their joint hands. Black streaks surfaced where their skin touched and seeped into Derek's arm. With every passing moment, Stiles felt all of his worries fading away and every tension leaving his body.

"No, wait,“ he objected weakly, but his eyes already drifted shut and his head bobbed to the side against Derek's strong shoulder. At ease, Derek leaned his head against Stiles', his brown locks slightly tingling his face, and looked outside the window as the airplane finally took off.


	9. the golden state

Stiles slowly awakened to the soft voice of a stewardess announcing their descent toward Los Angeles International Airport. He hastily closed his mouth and whipped his chin, hoping that Derek hadn't noticed him drooling in his sleep. When he looked over to the werewolf, he was relieved to see that he was engrossed with the tiny looking world outside the window, staring in awe down at the big city. He could honestly not remember the last time he had slept so well and he wondered if it was the strain of the journey or Derek's proximity that had let him drift into such a deep slumber. Lazily, Stiles stretched out his arms and legs before he slumped back into the seat. His mood collapsed as he saw Peter Hale walking from the direction of the toilet through the aisle between the seat, while a stewardess with rumpled hair and a wrinkled uniform sneaked out of the bathroom stall.

"God morning, sleeping beauty,“ he greeted him with a flirtatious wink as he passed him. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna disturb you two lovebirds, I'm of duty and without microphone right now.“ He gave a small wave and strode further down the aisle to take a seat at the front.

Deciding, that he should enjoy the calm moment before the turmoil started again,Stiles leaned against Derek's side and watched the soft smile on his face until the airplane landed.

A long, black limousine drove them to their five star hotel. While Stiles looked impressed at the interior of the luxury vehicle, Derek's eyes was once again fixed on the window as he drank in the sights and people of this foreign city. An idea jumped into Stiles head and with a press of the right button, the sunroof above them opened. He nudged Derek into his side and pointed up to the open window. The man looked up at the sky with childishly big eyes. Laughing under his breath at Derek's reaction, Stiles stood up and steered his upper body through the window, hoping that the werewolf would follow his actions and reward him with an even better response. His efforts were regarded, when Derek's head popped up through the window, his eyes adorably blinking against the strong airflow.

Stiles pulled him up by his arms and coaxed him into standing up straight, yet he still kept cautiously holding on to the car's roof. His head whisked around as he tried to look at everything at once. Slowly starting to feel safe, he took one hand away from the roof and started to point out things to the human, buildings, palm trees, people walking their dogs. Stiles happily drank in the sight of Derek's enthusiams.

"Do this!“ he told Derek and then threw up his arms and leaned his head backwards, enjoying the warm sun on his face and the cool wind on his skin. Derek laughed at him, but shook his head, his both hands again clinging to the car's roof.

"Come on. Trust me, it's fun.“ He leaned closer to Derek and took his hand's into his own, slowly rising them.

"You see, not so bad, huh?“

The werewolf gave him an unsure chuckle but then leaned back into Stiles body and raised his arms a little higher. He moved his fingers in waves through the air and gave another high, clear laugh and  _God,_ Stiles could have watched him forever, the small wrinkles that appeared around his eyes when he laughed, his soft skin radiating in the californian sun, the way his hair tossled in the wind. Stiles had to accept the fact that he was smitten.

The limousine turned into the street of their hotel and Stiles himself was impressed by the tall glass building reflecting the sunlight. They finally climbed back inside, both still a little breathless for different reasons. When the car came to a halt, several porters came rushing towards them, to open the car door for them and to carry their luggage. A hostess was waiting for them at the large entrace.

"Mr. And Mr. Stilinski, welcome to the Ritz-Carlton.“

She lead them through the lobby towards the elevators and Stiles had to pull Derek after him by his tee shirt, because he continued to come to a halt, stunned by the beauty and luxury.

On the twentysecond floor, they finally stepped out of the lift and walked towards one of the view doors in the hall. The hostess opened the door for them, before she handed them their room cards. This time it was Stiles who stopped in his tracks and stood motionless in the marble voyer as Derek and the hostess walked further into the suite.

The place was huge, the furnishing modern and fair. Bright light shined through the thin, white curtains infront of the large windows along the eastern wall. On the large and comfy looking sofas rested big cushions and everything smelled of the fresh flowers, which seemed to be standing in a vase on nearly every surface in the suite. Stiles didn't dare to take another step out of fear to make anything dirty. He looked around in the voyer and went through the prospects on a commode close to him. One of them held informations about the banshees concert tonight and Stiles read it thoroughly.

"The executive suite has a dining area, a lounge area and a wet bar. The large master suite has a separate dressing area and a 42” high-definition flat panel television with Blu-ray and DVD player. In here is the separate private bedroom area. Every room has wireless and wired Internet access,“ Stiles could hear the hostess explain as she showed Derek through the 1200 ft² large suite. "The bathroom contains a built-in mirror television, a sleek walk-in shower with a rain shower head and a separate tub.“

The two came back into view, the fair-haired hostess obviously amused by Derek's awestruck look.

"But the best feature is the spectacular view over Southern California.“

With a flourish motion, she opened the light curtains and Derek nearly ran against the glass in his sudden glee at the sight. The view really was breathtaking. They could see far past the city limits and if Stiles squinted his eyes, he could even see the mountains at the horizon.

"If you should need anything, the reception is open 24 hours a day. You can visit the luxury spa from 10am to 8pm from monday to fri-“

"Sorry“, Stiles interrupted her monologue and waved the banshee's pamphlet. „Miss Lydia Martin also stays in this hotel, right?“

"Well, I am not permitted to tell you about our other guests.“

"Right, sorry. It's just- I'm a big fan!“

"I can tell you that the banshee is not here at the very moment,“ the hostess told him with a wink. "But don't worry, you have a seat reserved in the front row. Next to Peter Hale! He's so talented, don't you think? I just love him, he's so sexy.“ The hostess was so absorbed in her swooning, that she didn't notice as Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles, who mimicked to throw up, but quickly stopped when she turned back towards him. "But- well, anyway, he has your tickets for the show and will be here in twenty minutes.“

Once more, Stiles wondered how he was supposed to keep his mission a secret, when he was always followed by that goddamn radio host. He gave her a polite smile and then scanned the pamphlet in his hand once again, reading that guests were supposed to come in formal attire.

"Do you know were I can get something to wear?“

The hostess lead him into the dressing area and opened a door to a walk in clothed full of sharp tailored tuxedos.

"Enjoy your evening Mr. Stilinski“, she bid him goodbye with a sideglance towards Derek.

"Thank you.“

When she left, he heard the distant sound of his cell phone ringing. He ran back into the voyer, where the porters had dropped his luggage, and pried out his phone.

"Hello?“ he said breathing heavily into the mouthpiece.

"So, when are you coming over?“ the sly voice of his father inquiered.

"Dad,“ Stiles sighed. "I'm not actually on vaccation-“

"Oh, stopp it. I barely see you anymore, you only come over for christmas. Remember how we used to spend so much time together? Let's revive some old traditions. It'll be fun! You can even bring your boyfriend.“

"Dad, I'm not in a relationship right now.“

"Yeah right, and who is that tall and broody guy with the eyebrows you brought to Los Angeles with you?“

"How-? Oh, fucking Hale!“

Speaking of tall and broody, Derek was suddenly rushing past him towards the door.

"Hey hey hey,“ Stiles stopped him with one hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?“

"Don't know.“

"Stiles? Stiles, who are you talking to?," he could hear his father asking through the phone, before he added smugly "So, you _are on a va_ _ccation with a boy_!“

"No, dad, I'm not,“ he quickly blurted into the phone, before he looked back at Derek again.

"What do you mean you don't know?“

The werewolf shrugged, his eyebrows fraught with tension. "Instincts.“

"Instincts?“

"Pentachoron connection to the fourth dimension,“ Derek tried to explain, one finger pointing at his own chest. "I feel fourth dimension. Instincts.“

He shook of Stiles' hand and left through the door.

"No, hey, wait a second!“ the human yelled after him, but he just gave a short wave and disappeared down the hall. Stiles was dissapointed, he had hoped that the two of them could spend a little more time together before the concerts started. He prayed that Derek would at least be back before Hale came over with the tickets.

"Did you fight because of me?“ his father spoke up concerned.

Stiles closed the door defeated and held the phone back up to his ear, before he walked over to one of the large sofas and let himself drop face first onto it. At least he could talk to his father until it was time to change into the tux.

"No, dad,“ he moaned, his voice muffled by a cushion. "This is fucking complicated.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is getting out of hand, I can't seem to stop adding scenes to the story! and I never understood what's so romantic about the scene in titanic until I imagined these two dorks doing it. I tried to tone it down a bit, but damn if I wasn't so close to writing down the dialogue between jack and rose!
> 
> and a short heads up: I'll probably have to raise the raiting. I've been envisioning the action scenes while I was sitting through a boring lecture and the whole ordeal is going to be a lot more bloody when I swap the fighting aliens with werwolves and the blue-blooded diva with a human who has actual red blood and guts and all. it's going to be so much fun


	10. the dominant instinct

Derek's senses pestered him to climb up, to go higher. He didn't understand this sudden need, he had been flying with an airplane and he couldn't get much higher than that. Besides, his wolf wasn't much of a fan of heights, he prefered the feeling of a solid ground beneath his feet. Right now, he would rather go out for a run, test this body he woke up in, find out its strength and boundaries. He had seen a large park outside through their suite's window, full of tall trees with thick branches and a deep blue lake that glistened in the sun. He wondered if the grass would feel under his bare feet like he distantly remembered and if jumping into the lake would be a similar experience to taking a shower. Maybe he and Stiles could go to the park later and explore it together.

Or they could cuddle up on that comfy looking bed in their suite while Derek drank in the dark and grounding scent of Stiles. His wolf would like that, too.

But he was more than a werewolf, he was the pentachoron. It was his duty to protect humanity and he couldn't get distracted by his own needs until he had brought the sacred stones to the nemeton and prevented the dark moon from rising, before it grew strong enough to absorb the energy of every living creature and left nothing but a cold void.

When he closed his eyes and concentrated on his inside, he was not able to find the link to the fourth dimension, yet, but he felt that little pull, that need to do the right thing, which he was only able to describe to Stiles as his instinct, even though he knew himself that it was something much bigger.

Obeying this instinct, he let his feet steer him towards the elevators. He growled in frustration when he found out that a security card was needed to ride up to the highest level. Determined, he went back into the hall to search for another way upwards until he found a fire escape staircase. He jogged the three flights of stairs up without getting winded.

The hall on the twenty-fifth floor was way smaller than the one that lead to Derek's and Stiles' suite and contained only one door, beside the fire exit. Sensing that this was where he was supposed to be, Derek tried to get into the suite, but the door was locked.

He was fiddling with the card slot, when he heard the ding of the elevator. Before its doors could open, Derek rushed back to the staircase and hid behind the big fire door. Through a small crack, he watched a group of people stream out of the elevator, some of them seemed to be hotel employees, others wore heavy uniforms and held sleek weapons, appearing to be security guards. Two porters grunted as they carried a heavy looking trunk between them. A petite, young woman followed them, flanked by two assistants dressed in beautiful modern clothes.

The woman herself wore a floral dress and long, strawberry blonde hair fell in thick curls over her shoulders, framing her soft face and piercing eyes. Her lips were painted in an aggressive red and she strutted on her high heels through the hall as if she owned the world. Derek had no doubts that this was the woman chosen to protect the stones.

One hotel employee opened the door towards her suite and the porters hurriedly carried Miss Martin's luggage inside. When she was about to enter herself, her stride suddenly faltered. An appalled look crossed her face and her eyes became unfocused, yet within seconds she had brushed the expression aside and gave her worried looking assistant a confident smile. The men gave her a knowing look, but didn't say anything and stepped inside, before the redhead leaned over to her other assistant, a coquettish woman with blond curls, and whispered something into her ear.

With a surprised look, the blonde's eyes shot in Derek's direction. Startled, he pulled the door closed, wincing as it went shut with an audible thud.

He crouched at the staircase, contemplating if he should go outside and talk to the banshee or just run away and come back later, when a lot less people were there to witness their affair, as suddenly a rhythmic knock was tapped against the door. Wary, he opened it a bit and peeked through the creak outside to find the blonde assistant smiling at him with a flirtatious grin.

"Miss Lydia Martin wants you to know how glad she is that you're here,“ she told him with a voice that bore more sincerity than her sharp appereance. "She will give you what you came to get. After the concert. Stay here.“

Before Derek could reply something, she pushed the door close and he was once again alone. With his back to the wall, he settled down for a long wait.


	11. the banshee's concert

Stiles was in a foul mood. Derek hadn't turned up again after walking out of their suite and now he had to endure the evening with Peter Dickhead Hale all by himself. He couldn't wait until this farce was over and he could shut himself alone in his cosy apartement again, away from every douche that walked on this planets surface. The douche next to him was checking out himself in a mirror for the umpteenth time and Stiles couldn't help but wonder why the werewolf was so obsessed with his appearance. He was a radio host, for God's sake, none of his billion listeners would know if that one hair was out of place.

Stiles question was answered as they stepped out of their limousine infront of the L. A. Opera's performing center. The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion was a big, square building covered with large windows and surounded by giant pillars that held up the protruding roof. Huge posters promoted the opera's show in capital letters, displaying gallant pictures of the redheaded banshee in a classic blue dress, the fabric flowing like water around her petite form. He had only a second to take it all in, before reporters shoved their cameras into his face, taking pictures of him and Hale, who had wrapped an amicable arm around Stiles' shoulder and showed his pearlwhite teeth in a big smile to the journalists. 

For the first time, Stiles was happy to have the dj next to him, because his lucent personality pulled everyones attention away from the skinny human and towards the famous werewolf, who answered every question cheekily, even the ones directed at Stiles. Like a pro, he steered them both through the crowd towards the opera house's entrance as fast as possible without neglecting the press.

Inside the marble foyer, Stiles had a second to catch his breath until Allison Argent suddenly appeared next to him in a strapless evening gown and a pist off posture.

"What are you doing here?“ he asked flabbergasted and a bit in awe of her gorgeous complexion.

"I'm making sure you don't do anything stupid. How could you board that plane without me? We're supposed to be partners on this mission, Stiles!“

Her frustration with him was clear in her voice and Stiles felt a knot of shame fasten in his stomach. For years they had trusted each other, always counting on their partner to have each other's back, and now he had disappointed her, too.

"Who's this tasty tidbit, Stiles? Do you have two winning horses in your stable? You sly fox!“ Hale chirruped, giving Allison an approving once-over.

"Excuse my manners, I'm Allison Argent, a friend of Stiles. I'm his attendance tonight.“

"Peter Hale,“ the radio host told her with a kiss to her hand. "Enchanté.“

A frightening notion came up in Stiles' mind and he regarded her with angry eyes. "Wait, where's Derek? I swear, if you laid a finger on him-“

"I didn't do anything to your boyfriend,“ Allison hissed. "But if you had the brass neck to bring him here, I had folded him up and handed him in at the cloakroom for you to pick him up after we had collected the stones. Now, come on“, she said suddenly sweet again, linking their arms, as she remembered all the civilians around them. "We gonna enjoy the show and meet the banshee right after.“

Hale's assistants emerged out of nowhere and surrounded him with their nerve-wracking jabbering. In tow they had an important looking man who introduced himself as the L.A. Opera's vice chairman and a beautiful woman wearing a small tiara on her head and a sash around her torso, which read Miss California. In a rush, names were exchanged and hands shaken, while the radio host fastened his small micro to his head and quickly ran over the scheduling with one of his assistants. In unison, the group ceased speaking as one man with giant headphones and his eyes on his wristwatch depicted a countdown with his fingers.

"Los Angeles!“ Hale shouted out in his cheap showmanship voice when the countdown struck zero. "Peter Hale at your service for two hours with the lucky winner of the Cheerios' contest Stiles Stilinski, L.A. Opera's vice chairman Bernard Greenberg, and this years Miss California in person! And the three thousand other lucksters here, to enjoy the privilege of the unique concert of Miss Lydia Martin!“

Hale delivered his fast-paced announcement faltlessly as the large group started to move further inside the building. In the concert hall, plush seats were spread over four tiers, connected by wide curving stairways. Lucent chandeliers hanged from the ceiling and filled the room with an apprehensive light. The sound of people muttering resounded in the large hall, as the members of the audience searched for their seats.

"Now we enter what must be the most beautiful concert hall of the U.S.A.! The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion is part of the Los Angeles Music Center, which is one of the three largest performing arts centers in the United States.“ Hale paused for a moment and surveyed the rich décor of the interior before he waved a disregarding hand. "But who cares!“

They strode down the rows of seats while the radio host began to gossip about the high-profile audience. "To my right, a row of ministers, more sinisters than ministers. To my left, Lou Ferrigno, star of 1970s Incredible Hulk. He's not going to get much out of this concert. He's stone-deaf!“ he yelled into the actor's direction, who seemed to have problems at dedicating his signature to a fan. "And here we have Mike Morin, pitcher of the Los Angeles Angels!“ He high-fived the athlete as he walked past. "Oklahoma Governer Mary Fallin and her lovely daughter. ''I love to sing," she recently confessed to me. By the way, I have a recording of her talented voice. I'll play you the whole song after the concert, it's time for Stiles to say the word of the day.“

Hale abruptly stopped as they reached the front row, snatched a mike out of his assistant's hand and held it under Stiles' nose. The human had become accustomed to the dj's antics and just looked at him unfazed.

"Tell me, my man, you happy here in the big world?“

"Thrilled.“

He sat down on his seat next to Allison, displaying his displeasure at being dragged into the stupid radio show once again while Hale's body convulsed with the effort of not letting his anger show in his voice.

"And now,“ he pressed through gritted teeth. "Champagne!“

He beckoned a tall waiter over and grabbed one of the glasses from his tray before he shooed him away again.

"Commercial,“ he shouted irritated into his earpiece. "Commercial!“

Every person found their seat at last and the murmur hushed as the lights were dimmed. The hall was dark as the curtains were drawn apart and a single spotlight shined down onto a female figure. The orchestra started to play soft music as Lydia Martin slowly stepped to the front of the stage, dressed in a silky lilac evening gown. The banshee looked breathtaking and for a short moment Stiles thought that if Derek never reciprocated his feelings, this woman would definetly be his next love interest.

His admiration increased when the redhead opened her mouth and began to sing with a devine voice, enchanting every member of the audience within seconds. Mesmerized, Stiles leant back in his seat and let the heart-wrenching music wave over him.


	12. the wooden box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing action scenes took a bit longer, sorry, but we reached the violent parts of the story, so yay for blood?

Derek was waiting patiently for the banshee's return. Like a mannequin, he sat still on the fire escape staircase, his eyes facing forward to the opposite wall, and listened intently to his surroundings.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the ding of the elevator, announcing that its doors would open on this level. The werewolf's whole body was immediately on alert and he silently rised from his position. To make sure that it was indeed the banshee and not some hotel employee, he cracked open the fire door and peeked outside.

His nostrils flared as the murky smell of other werewolves wafted towards him. With a sense of foreboding, he watched as a large pack, lead by the barfooted woman and the pair of twins, marched towards the suite.

"You think this is a good idea, Kali?“ one of the brothers asked her in a low voice.

The female werewolf looked determined. "Ennis has a bigger force at the opera, ready to seize the banshee in case we can't find the box here. If Deucalion wants the stones so badly, he'll have to come and give us back our pack members in exchange for them. If the blind bastard did anything to Jennifer-“ She stopped herself, taking a calming breath, before she turned back to the task at hand. "Well, we're gonna make sure his life will be hell.“ She gave him a wicked grin before she gently knocked against the door and waited for an answer patiently.

"Yes“, shouted a male voice from inside.

"Champagne for the banshee.“

Martin's assistant opened the door, his features full of boredom. His expression directly changed into panic, when the woman shot out her arm and took hold of his throat. With outstanding strenght, she lifted the man and threw him backwards into the suite.

With a calm strut, she entered after him, followed by the rest of her pack.

Derek could hear shouting and the firing of guns, and his muscles strained with the great need to protect washing over him. His whole body acted on instinct as he jumped through the door and into the suite.

The man lay unmoving at the oposite wall, a large stream of blood rushing out of the back of his head. Another person was slumped on the ground in the middle of the room, her face sliced to an unrecognizable state, but her blonde, curly hair revealed her identity to Derek. A small gun, the right size to easily fit into a purse, lay close to her, but it had obviously been no help. Normal bullets couldn't stop a werewolf, even less a whole pack. Around their victims, the werewolves rifled through drawers and trunks, trashing the whole suite in their hasted search.

"I have found it!“ declared one of them, holding a heavy case ornated with detailed wood carvings, the same moment that Derek burst inside, fueled with anger.

The pack turned towards him in shock, unmobile for a second. He used their surprise to his advantage and quickly took out the closest werewolf by headbanging him. A loud crunch could be heard as his nose was shattered into pieces and blood began to pour out of it over his face. In slow motion, he dropped to his knees and then fell over onto the ground.

The woman took the wooden box out of her henchman's hands and barked at the pack.

"Get him!“

Awaking at once from their rigour, the other wolves set upon him, snarling their sharp teeth. Derek felt his own teeth lengthening in response, his claws growing out and his face turning into wolfish features. He kicked the first opponent out of his way, another one being knocked down as the werewolf flew against him and burried him under his weight. The next one tried to slash at him, but Derek took hold of his wrist, before the sharp claws could reach his face. Under the sound of the wolf's scream, he twisted his arm around and forced him to his knees. In a fluent motion, he thrust his leg backwards, kicking away another werewolf that tried to tackle him from behind, and then pushed his knee forward again, banging it brutaly into the kneeling wolf's head and leaving his jaw hanging in an unnatural angle.

The werewolf that had wanted to attack Derek's back was coming at him again. He pulled out a ridiculously big knife from a sheat attached to his leg. When the sharp steel catched the reflection of Derek's red glowing alpha eyes, it looked as though the blade had already been coated with blood before it even had sliced through flesh.

With wild motions he tried to slash at Derek without giving him a chance to come closer to him. Derek danced backwards and sidestepped every swipe. In a trice, the werewolf changed the pattern of his movements, trying to catch Derek by surprise, and thrust the knife forward. Derek could feel the tip of the knife cutting into his skin right above his heart, but before it could sink any deeper into his chest, he had grasped the blade in a firm hold. He could feel the metal slicing through his fingers' flesh and scratching against the bones, still he kept his grip tight around it. The other werewolf's eyes turned as big as saucers as Derek used all his strength to pull the knife out of his torso and turn it aroud towards his enemy. The werewolf gasped from the exertion of trying to gain back control over his weapon, but Derek was stronger. Steadily, it was turned back, until the tip pointed upwards from right beneath the man's jaw. In a fast move, Derek slammed his knee up against the knife's butt and it shot straight through the soft underside of the werewolf's jaw until the tip came back out at the top of his head, splashing a red spray up into the air.

The moment the werewolf hit the ground, a pair of twins came at Derek, attacking him from different sides. Moving swiftly, he dodged their fists then took hold of one twins shoulder and pulled him around a circle to throw him against his brother. The two staggered back until they catched their footing. They shared a quick look before they groped each others shoulders and began to grunt in exertion as they began to push into each other. Derek watched staggered as the two werwolves merged together and grew into a bigger one.

With a sly smile on his lips the wolf of the fusioned twins looked down at Derek, who suddenly felt very small in comparison. Without effort, he lifted the smaller werewolf and tossed him through the suite. The coffee table crashed under Derek's weight as he landed heavily on top of it. He shook off the pain and jumped at the giant man again, his actions to fast for the large werewolf, and managed to strike a punch against his abdomen. Unaffected, the werewolf blinked down at Derek, then lifted his large fist and connected it with Derek's face. He immediately went down, but quickly rolled over and kicked at his opponents legs. The werewolf fell over like a logged down tree. Without halting, Derek grabbed a floor lamp and broke off the upper half, before he took hold of the metal rod and rammed the broken end through the twins' joined chest, pinning their huge form to the ground. Screaming in anguish, they grasped the metal rod and tried to pull it out, but Derek had already turned towards a large wardrobe and pushed it over, letting the heavy piece of furniture fall on top of the giant werewolf with a loud bluster.

Derek's shoulders heaved as he straightened up again. He briskly turned around when he heard the last werewolf behind him making a move.

With a sigh, the barefooted woman set the box aside on the ground and stalked towards him. She cranked her neck and, with the grinding sound of bones rearranging, her face turned from human to werewolf. Still pumped up with adrenaline, he charged at her with a loud growl. The female alpha skilfully avoided his punches and ducked down. Spinning around, she skipped from one leg to the other, kicking one foot after the other at Derek's torso and slashing his shirt and the underlying skin deeply with her long nails.

The werewolf stumbled backwards, one hand held against his aching chest as his grey tee shirt darkened with blood. Kali's eyes glistened at the sight of his distress and she showed him her sharp teeth through a predatory grin.

In a flash, she was upon him again. This time, he was prepared for her attack and the moment she lifted her leg, he went down to on knee, captured her calf over his shoulder and promptly stood up again. Loosing her balance, the woman clunked onto her back, but before Derek could make use of his upper hand, she had raised her other leg over his shoulder and squeezed his head between her tighs.

Derek's face turned red with the struggle to breath and his eyes started to bulge. He couldn't move forward nor backward and no matter how deep he pushed his claws into the the woman's flesh, she didn't let go. She laughed as she strained her muscles even more, linking her legs behind his head, and tightened her grip on Derek's neck.

The werewolf became desperate, his heart beating as fast as a small insects wings, pumping his blood rapidly through his veins. A deep ache formed in his bones, duller than the sharp piercing slices on his chest and more prominent. He felt how his skeleton began to break apart and grew back together again in a different shape. His claws pulled out of the woman's tighs as his shoulder drew tightly together, preventing him from holding his arms at this distinct angle, and his hands turned into big paws. His muscles in his neck grew stronger and his face extended into a big muzzle as all his senses sharpened and hit his mind with new informations, like the stinging smell of the woman's loathing or the rapid flattering of the carotid artery on her neck.

With sudden fear in her eyes, the woman looked up at the giant black wolf on top of her. Her legs weren't strong enough to hold him back as the werewolf pushed his hind legs back against the ground and darted forwards. With a fierce growl, he closed his jaw around her neck and sank his teeth into the soft flesh.

Warm blood filled his mouth and an overwhelming metallic taste drowned his senses. Within a blink of an eye, his rage had dissipated and all he could feel was the woman's mortal agony. Aghast, the wolf let go of his victim. Kali clutched her hand around her injured neck, red liquid running through her long, thin fingers. Powerless, her look had lost its wolfish features and had turned back into a soft, human face distorted with anguish.

Derek winced and backed away from the gasping woman. Trying to choke down his guilty conscience, he turned away from her to examine the crested box.

He stood over the case and sniffed it, about to change back to be able to open it with human hands, when his ears pricked up at the sudden sound of a cane tapping against the ground in an irregular rhythm.

Putting a protective paw over the box, Derek fixated his sight on the entrance. He snarled when a man stepped slowly into view, dark tinted glasses on his nose and a white cane in his hand. He paused in the doorway, his face turned straight forward instead of slightly down in Derek's direction and for a moment the werewolf wondered if the blind man had taken notice of him.

"My compliments, little pup,“ the man suddenly spoke up. "Thank you for doing the dirty work. I couldn't have done a better job.“ He dropped his cane, grasped behind his back and pulled out a fully-automatic gun. With his heightened senses, Derek could smell the wolfsbane inside the bullets despite the distance. With his free hand, the man pulled off his glasses, exposing red scarred eyes that fixated Derek directly. "Now, back away from the stones.“

Weighing his possibilities, the wolf made no move. He looked at the man and suddenly felt the tension shift. His connection to the fourth dimension pulled at him from the inside, forcing him to take his black paw back off the box and slowly step back.

A muscle in the man's arm flinched, but before his finger could pull the trigger, Derek had bolted to the side. Next to him, bullets shot into the ground where he stood a mere second ago. Without thinking, he took a running jump onto a bureau and leaped up into an air vent in the ceiling.

His claws scratched into the metal as he awkwardly tried to pull his whole body into the vent. Beneath him, he could hear the man cursing under his breath, followed by another round of bullets being shot. Derek howled in pain as one of the wolfsbane bullets pierced through his left hind leg.

Finally, he managed to completely disappear inside the vent. He struggled forward to escape the line of fire, but his clumsy crawling resounded through the ventilation shaft and immediately the man had redirected his aim to Derek's new position. The missiles fired through the ceiling, leaving little holes that let faint light into the shaft. Crouching, the wolf tried to dodge them. He soothed his breathing and slowed down his pounding heart to make as little noise as possible.

The shooting paused and he could hear the man stomping through the room. Without a warning, he fired his gun again, emptying his ammo clip into the whole of the ceiling. Derek tried to make himself as small a target as possible and winced as another bullet grazed his flank.

The empty weapon clattered onto the floor as the man flinged it carelessly to the side. Derek could hear him moving to the still wheezing woman lying in her own puddle of blood, and silently tried to peer through a bullet hole down into the room.

"Kali," the man huffed as he wrenched her hands away from her throat to take a look at her injury.

Her spitefull eyes followed him as he sat back up and grabbed the box.

"All of this trouble and what did it get you? You should have done what I told you without questioning it.“

He calmly picked up his cane and turned to leave. He paused and sticked some kind of small, grey box with buttons against the door. After pressing some of them, red digits started to glow and slowly counted down.

The man threw another look over his shoulder back at Kali.

"Oh, before I forget to mention it. Jennifer is already dead. When you see her again in a few minutes, tell her I said hello.“

Laughing quietly to himself, he left the suite, the sound of his cane tapping along the floor filling the room until he was too far away to be heard anymore.


	13. the werewolves' attack

Enchanted by the banshee's concert, Stiles starred up at the stage, his foot tapping in rhythm with the music. The deep, emotional tune had changed into a faster, more energetic beat and glaring laser beams whizzed over the scene, painting Lydia Martin's dress with every colour of the rainbow. The singer sashayed over the stage with an angel's grace and now and then flinged her hair back over her shoulder with an elegant shake of her head without her voice ever missing a tune.

Next to him, Allison was smiling brightly and humming along, but her eyes weren't fixed on the stage. Inconspicuously, she looked around the concert hall, eyeing the exits and focusing on every movement.

The song came to an end and Miss Martin sang out the last, long note, then bowed down the same moment the music stopped and the lights went out. The audience erupted in applause. In unison the people jumped off their seats for a standing ovation. Peter was over the moon, yelling "Bravo! Bravo!“ Slowly the lights turned up again and Lydia stood in the middle of the stage, bowing deeply.

She raised the microphone to start singing her next song, when suddenly the doors to the hall were thrown open. A large group of wolfed out people poured through every entry inside. Despite their already lethal claws and teeth, they were carrying heavy weapons and immediately opened fire on the audience. The people began to scream as the first spurts of bullets shot into the crowd, taking several people down. The whole room turned into chaos as everyone ran towards the exits, trying to save their own lives. Whoever had fallen to the ground was mercylessly stamped down.

Stiles had thrown himself on the ground, trying to find cover behind the seats, and Peter had followed his example. They could hear the devastated cry of Hale's assistants as they were carried away by the crowd's force. Peter was shacking in fear and babbled into his mike, agitatedly describing the happenings to his listeners. Stiles didn't stop him, thinking that the radio host should do whatever helped him to get through the attack.

Allison, on the other hand, had pulled out a gun and Stiles seriously wondered where she had been hiding it the whole time. She returned the fire with precice shots, taking one after the other werewolf out. She had to duck behind the seats when their attackers focused their joint onslaught on the front row. The young agent was completely in her element, she had been raised to haunt down werewolves and every action she did right now came natural to her. W ith skillfull hands, she reloaded her weapon with new ammo.

"I'll distract them," Allison shouted at Stiles while she lifted the long skirt of her dress and fastened it in a knot. "You get the stones!“

Stiles turned towards Miss Martin, who stood still in shock in the middle of the stage, when the sound of several guns fired at once resounded again through the concert hall and one stray bullet ripped a big hole into the banshees abdomen. Her hands went down to cover the wound as blood started to gush out of it, toning her dress in a much darker colour than the laser beams had just a view minutes before. The singer's eyes turned back into hear head and as gracefully as she had danced, she fell down to the ground.

Stiles shout out in shock, but Allison didn't falter. As fast as a gazelle, she leaped over the row of seats and started firing again. She rushed through the aisle and fought her way towards one of the exits, the pulp of werewolves chasing her as she darted outside.

Trusting that Allison had all the werewolves' attention, Stiles flinged himself up onto the stage and pulled the injured woman done behind the cover of the front row. He took off his jacket and pressed the fabric against the gaping hole in her stomach.

"The government had send me to help you. Just stay calm.“

Next to them, Peter was in the middle of a meltdown.

"If somebody hears this, come and get me! I'm in the first row“, he cried into his mike.

"You must give him the stones," Lydia told Stiles urgently. Her voice was raw and a small river of blood ran out of the corner of her mouth.

"Who?“

"The pentachoron. The supreme being summoned from death to save the world.“

"Derek?," Stiles asked bewildered.

"Yes," she answered with a fond smile. "But he's more fragile than he seems. He needs your help.“ Under strain, she reached out one blood-besmeared hand and cupped his face. "And your love. Or he will die.“ Her eyelids fluttered shut and her hand fell weakly back to the ground, leaving a red streak on his cheek.

"No, no, no," Stiles mumbled insistently. "Stay with me! No, you can't die, come on. Listen to me! Wake up!“ He took her face into his hand and she opened her eyes in a daze.

"Where are the stones?“

"What?“

"The stones! Where are the stones?“

The banshee took a deep, rustling breath and laid her hand onto her stomach close to the lethal wound.

"The stones," she said weakly, fighting for the energy to continue her sentence.

"The stones, where are they?!“

"In me.“ She whispered her last words as her eyes drew shut once more and the last bit of life drained out of her body.

"What? What?“ Stiles urged her on, but it was too late. Lydia Martin was dead.

"My God! Stiles!“ Peter cried out from where he was peeping over the back of the row. "Oh my God, Stiles! Stiles! Stiles! Another one coming! Stiles, I think we should go!“

"One minute!“ he tried to hush him in vain. "Just gimme a minute!“

"Hey you!“ a deep voice suddenly said from behind him. A kick landed on his back as he didn't react. "I said you!“

"I'm not with him," Peter hastily declared with his hands raised in the air, but the werewolf didn't regard him.

He hold out his weapon against Stiles neck in a threat. "Where's the other?“

In a flash, Stiles grabbed his arm and flicked the werewolf over his shoulder. He slammed hard on his back and within a second, Stiles had taken his gun and held it to his head.

"I said one minute," he told the werewolf angry. "Peter, hold this gun.“

All colour drained out of the radio hosts face. "What?!“

"Hold this gun," Stiles repeated pressing.

"What do you want me to do?“ Peter was stuttering fastly with nervousness. His hands were trembling harshly as he came closer.

"Come on, puit your hand there.“ Gently, Stiles guided Peter's finger around the weapon without aiming it away from the werewolf's head. "Put your hand on it.“

"What do I do?," Peter asked once again desperately.

"If he moves, squeeze the trigger.“

Stiles turned bacck around towards the banshee's dead body and tried to make sense of her words. Behind him, Peter continued having his mild panic attack.

"I don't feel right, Stiles!“

The human paid him not attention and shut his spluttering out.

"The stones are in me“, he mumbled to himself thoughtfully, when it suddenly hit him.

He took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeves, preparing himself for what he was about to do. Carefully, but with force, he pushed his hand inside the dead woman's injury. The flesh ripped under the strain, distending the wound further and letting more blood ooze out. He groped delicately through the entrails, squeezing the intestines between his fingers until he felt something hard inside it.

"Stiles? I have a headache, Stiles. This ain't me!“ Peter's muttering stopped as he watched with big eyes as Stiles pulled out the small bowel, looped it around his hands and ripped it forcefully apart. Fine drops of blood splattered around and landed on the dead banshee's body and Stiles' face. He didn't mind the spatters, he was too engrossed in squeezing the hard object out of the organ. A greasy, little plastic bag came out, iniside it, a deep blue sapphire, small enough to fit into Stiles' closed fist. The gem was uncut and still rough at the sides, but the rich colour exposed its worth.

Stiles quickly pulled out the other two stones, a ruby and an emerald, before he turned to the radio host.

"Peter.“

The dj jerked as Stiles suddenly called his name and a loud bang echoed through the sound as he pulled the trigger and shot a bullet right into the werewolf's brain.

"Sorry," he quieked at the unmoving body and dropped the gun. "You think he's gonna be okay?“

Stiles rolled his eyes at the man's distress and pulled out his tuxedo's handkerchief to wrap the stones inside it. The sound of footsteps came closer, decoyed by the noise of the gun and Peter threw a nervous look over the seats.

"Stiles, another one coming. Oh, shit! Three coming, Stiles! Three!“

Shrieking, Peter was pulled back down and Stiles pushed the wrapped up stones into his hand.

"You guard this with your life or you'll look like this guy right here.“ He pointed at the red hole in the werewolf's head. "Moon?“

"Moon.“

"Supermoon?“

"Supermoon!“

Stiles took back the weapon and jumped out behind the seats. Within seconds he had gunned down the three werewolves and rushed up the steps between the seat rows towards the upper exit.

More werewolves were roused by the noise and ran towards him. He shot wildly at the group as he walked out onto the gallery. In the foyer beneath him, civilians were still running around screaming, but his eyes catched the trained motions of a warrior and he pointed his gun towards the threat. He paused, taken aback as he saw the werwolf aiming a giant machine pistole back at him.

Impressed, he nodded his head and then fled sideways, blindly shooting at the werewolf, who responded the fire. The fat missiles slammed into the gallery's railing and the wall behind Stiles, bursting deep holes into the plaster and leaving a smoking trail of destruction.

Stiles ran as fast as he could to avoid the bullets and then took a leap over the railing with a strained yell. He landed hard on the foyer's bar, bottles and glasses scattering to the side and breaking in a clear chink, before he rolled over and fell behind its cover.

While he catched his breath, wincing at the shards' sharp edges that had sliced his skin in various places, Peter scrambled out of the concert hall onto the gallery, his back bend low to avoid being seen by the werewolves. The stones were stashed deep in his tight dress pants' back pocket and he repeatedly patted his rear to make sure that they were still there, while still muttering unthinkingly into his mike.

Behind the bar, Stiles was frantically searching for his weapon. He must have dropped it during his jump from the gallery. The werewolves were yelling orders at each other and Stiles could hear more gun shots in the distance, telling him that Allison wasn't far away. Something cluttered to his left and he looked over to see a small hand grenade without safety pin ring landing next to him. In a heartbeat, Stiles kicked it away and bolted in the opposite direction.

The small grenade's explosion blasted half of the bar away and Stiles threw his arms over his head as he felt the hot blaze reaching its clutches close to his body.

Pumped full with adrenaline and his heart pounding fastly, Stiles tried to find a way out of his bad situation. He searched the room once more for the gun he had dropped and found it lying close to a table under which Lou Ferrigno and a few other civilians hid.

"Hey! Lou!," he shouted at the actor. The man looked over to him, baffled and clearly afraid.

"The gun! Gimme the gun!“

Ferrigno starred at him before lifting a hand and holding it behind his ear.

Stiles crunched his teeth in frustration and started to point urgently at the weapon.

"The- _the gun!_ “

Another grenade landed inside the bar, to far away from Stiles to kick it further away, but still close enough that the force of the following explosion tossed Stiles aside and out from behind his cover. At his sight, the werewolves promptly opened fire and Stiles scarcely avoided them as he crawled as fast as possible back behind the counter to escape them.

As he looked up, he saw that Ferrigno had creeped out from under the table.

"Yes," he yelled affirmingly. "The gun!“

The actor leaned over some wreckage, picked something up and threw it over to Stiles.

It was a lemon that must have dropped from the bar's counter and rolled towards the table.

Stiles blinked at the fruit in disbelieve before he looked up at Lou, who winked at him triumphantly and gave him a thumbs up. Stiles was totally done.

"Thanks, Lou.“

A werewolf jumped up behind the counter, roaring loudly and pointing his weapon at Stiles. The human threw his hands in the air in a surrendering gesture.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!," he cried out, fear and panic written over his face. "I'm not armed!“

"Get up!," the werewolf snarled.

Stiles obeyed immediately and stood up on unsteady feet.

"You've got the wrong guy. Don't shoot.“

The other werewolf's in the room came closer and surrounded him as he slowly walked out from behind the bar and took a full turn to let his eyes swift through the room and over every enemy, his arms still raised.

"I'm on vacation. Don't shoot me, please. I won a contest – Cheerios' – to Los Angeles.“

The werewolf holding him at gun point took a step to the side and onto a long chunk of ruins to have a better aim at the human.

"Get down," he barked from his higher position and waved his weapon curtly over to the side where the other civilians were pulled out from under the table and lead away with a threatening weapon to their heads.

Stiles looked up at him and spotted Peter on the gallery right above the werewolf, peeking his head through the railing to get a better look at the foyer. He made eye contact with the radio host and waved his fingers as subtle as possible.

"Wait a minute," the dj whispered into his mike as the werewolf repeated his order at Stiles. "I think he's trying to say something to me.“

As Peter still didn't understand Stiles' sign to move over and the werewolf began to growl at Stiles, the human sighed heavily and then jumpd forward onto the raised end of the chunk that the werewolf was standing on.

Yowling in surprise, he was tossed upwards, his head breaking through the gallery above him and emerging right next to Peter's face, who started howling in shock. The werewolf panicked as his head was stuck in the concrete and he blindly pulled his weapon's trigger. But Stiles had already ducked down and the bullets flew past him, hitting the werewolves that surrounded him.

Peter was wolfed out in fright and slashed his claws at the head that had popped up next to him, pushing it back down through the hole until the werewolf fell back onto the ground, losing the hold on his weapon.

Stiles snatched the gun and shot the last werewolves standing in the foyer into the head. He rushed to the closest one and searched through his stuff, finding a small bomb with a timer switch at the werewolf's belt.

Through the hole in the ceiling, Peter was looking down at him in distress.

"Stiles, my man. Where are? Oh my God. Stiles. Stiles, they're coming!“ he cried out as another group of werewolves marched out into the gallery.

With a fierce look in his eyes, Stiles raised the fully-automatic gun and aimed it in Peter's direction.

"Don't move!“

"What!?“

He pulled the trigger, letting the bullets hit into the underside of the gallery's floor, drawing a circle right around where the dj lay. The man coughed as the missiles went through the concrete and blew up dust and dirt around him. The stone cracked loudly and then broke away from beneath the radio host, who yelled startled as he fell with the debris down into the foyer.

He caughed and shook off the dirt before he turned to Stiles and was shocked once more as he watched the human setting the timer on the bomb.

"Wha- What you doing?!“

"Count to ten," Stiles told him and then threw the explosive weapon up onto the gallery.

He pulled Peter by his lapels under a table and took hold of the table's leg. Behind them, the werewolves started to shot down from the gallery at the table they were hiding under.

"Was that a bomb?“ Peter asked incredulously.

"Shut up and count!“

With a voice quaked by panic, Peter started to count loudly, as they moved forward with the table above them. As he reached nine, the bomb exploded into a vast fireball, tearing down the gallery and blasting the werewolves away. The shock wave pushed them forward and they clinged to the table's legs, trying to protect themselves from the flying debris.

After the enormous bang, the room seemed suddenly silent. Stiles crawled out from under the table and inspected the demolition. The gallery was lying in ruins atop of the werewolves and several small fires blazed lazily at the remains as thick, black smoke raised from the flames.

He turned to Peter, who staggered out from beneath the table, and gave him a wry smile.

"Ten.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have our exams and I'm writting instead of studying, someone punch me in the face


	14. the trouble maker

With Peter close on his heels, Stiles rushed through the opera house's backstage.

"What are you looking for?“ Peter asked him breathlessly.

"My partner.“

They turned around a corner and came to a sudden halt when two security guards were thrown into their direction.

"This is it.“

"I'll be there, alright?“ the radio host said and pointed over to the far end of the hall, but Stiles grabbed him by his shoulder and pulled him along.

"Let's go!“

A group of armed guards was standing outside of the security control room. Allison was with them, her back pressed against the wall next to the entry while bullets kept flying through the open door and smashed into the opposite wall. The chief of security stood close, starring at the woman in awe and wincing when another volley was fired. She was about to reload her weapon with more wolfsbane bullets, when Stiles came to stand next to her.

"How many of them are out there?“ he asked his partner quickly.

"Seven on the left, five on the right," she answered in a controlled voice, then dashed infront of the door, pulling the trigger on her gun repeatedly before she took cover again.

"Four on the right, two on the left.“

"We need to find their alpha," Stiles declared. "The werewolves wouldn't fight without their alpha.“

He peeked past Allison and saw a big werewolf raising in the middle of the group. He remembered the man as one of the four alphas that had visited his flat. The werewolf was holding his sharp claws close to the throat of a desperate looking Scott and Stiles coursed loudly before turning to Allison.

"You brought Scott?!“

"You brought a civilian into this, too!“

"Derek's not a civilian, he's part of the mission.“

"Yeah, and Scott is the true alpha who knows all about the stones and the nemeton!“

Stiles kept his answer to himself. Scott may be the true alpha and some kind of werewolf ghandi, but he was still Stiles' awkward and gullible best friend. He wasn't really made for this kind of business.

"One more shot and we start killing hostages!“ shouted the alpha with a roaring voice.

"That's the leader," Stiles told Allison.

"Send someone to negotiate," came the deep voice from within the security room.

Stiles and Allison turned expectantly towards the chief of security.

The man sweated nervously and started to stutter.

"I- I- I've never negotiated.“

"You mind if Agent Argent tries?“ Stiles asked, not really waiting for an answer and giving Allison a hand sign. She gave him a small nod in return.

"No, no! No, sure! We're sending somebody in to negotiate!“ he shouted back to the werewolves.

With a confident strut, Allison walked inside the room, yanked up her gun and shot a wolfsbane bullet right between the alpha's eyes, who droped heavily down onto the ground.

Scott winced at the bang and gaped at Allison who still pointed the gun in his direction and looked around the room at the few werewolves left.

"Anybody else want to negotiate?“

The chief of security turned to Stiles with wide eyes.

"Where did she learn to negotiate like that?“

"Her father.“

The last werewolves were arrested by the security guards and finally police and paramedics arrived at the opera house. The people gathered in the voyer, getting medical aid or searching for their loved ones.

Stiles and Allison took a step back as Peter's assistants came running towards him, beside themselves with worry.

As they brought a paramedic to look him over, he began to talk into his mike again, continuing with is radio show, and Stiles was impressed with so much professionalism. Or was it narcissism that kept him talking to his listeners about himself?

"Ladies and gentleman," he spoke with his exaggerated radio voice, while an assistant patched up the scratches on his hand.

"This is Peter Hale, still alive- Ouch!“ he yelled as a burnging antispetic was spread over his skin. "What's wrong with you?“ He smacked the man on his head. "It hurts!“

After making sure that Allison was unscathed, Scott came towards Stiles.

"Stiles, I realize that you must be pretty mad at me, but I want you to know that I am fighting for a noble course," he told his friend earnestly.

"Yes, I know. You're trying to save the world," Stiles answered exhausted but paused when close to them the police officer's walkie-talkie made a static noise and the voice of the operations management came through.

"Shooting in the Ritz-Carlton hotel. Send patrol cars and an ambulance.“

The officer grasped the communication device off his belt with annoyance.

"Are you serious?! We have all our hands full at the opera!“

Nonetheless, he waved a group of officers over and rushed with them outside.

"I remember," Stiled continued to tell Scott as he darted after the police. "Right now, I'm just trying to save Derek.“

Scott waved Allison over to follow them and then fell into step next to Stiles.

"He's in trouble?“

Stiles snorted.

"When is Derek not in trouble?“

"I have my car parked right behind the opera house," Allison said and led the way outside to her black SUV.

Allison sat behind the wheel and Sott took the place next to her. Stiles jumped into the back of the car, halting to close the door when Peter Hale suddenly climbed into the backseat right after him.

"What are you doing here?“ he asked incredulously.

"Today's show is about the Cheerios' contest winner and I'm not gonna leave your side!“

With his determined stare fixated on Stiles, he pulled the car's door close and yelled over the seats at Allison.

"Drive!“

Allison stepped on the gas and with squeaking tires she peeled away from the kerbstone and sped down the road. Stiles perched anxiously on the backseat and prayed that they would be fast enough to come to Derek's rescue. He knew that he was a grown man, a werewolf on top of that, who could easily watch out for himself, but beneath his broad shoulders and the broody eyebrows, the dude was too innocent and sweet for this world. Stiles wanted to wrap him protectively into his arms and never ever let him go.

He was wrenched out of his thoughts when Allison stomped down onto the break and sweared loudly. They had droven right into a traffic jam and other cars were already driving up behind them, cutting off their way back. Allison honked impatiently, but as to be expected, no one moved aside.

"Fuck this," Stiles muttered under his breath and threw the door open.

The other three yelled at him as he leaped out of the car, but he paid no attention to their objections. Without halting, he started to run down the street between the row of cars. It was only half a mile more to the hotel, he could be at Derek's side within five minutes. His lungs began to burn as he pushed forward, but he didn't slow down. Derek needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allison is a bamf, tell me something new !
> 
> as always, please tell me if you find any major mistakes


	15. the black wolf

Derek couldn't say how long he was lying in the dark. His whole body hurt and he couldn't stop trembling. He was to weak to move, let alone change back into his human form. He could faintly hear the feeble heartbeats of the knocked down werewolves and the stertorous breathing of the dying alpha. His heart sank as he thought about the fact that all of this pain had been caused by him.

His ears perked up as he heard the sound of the elevator doors opening and hurried steps coming into the suite. The person's heart skipped a beat at being faced with the destroyed interior and the many knocked out werewolves. Derek waited quietly as the man searched for something between the victims, until his scent wafted up into the vent and the wolf couldn't stop the whine coming out of his mouth.

"Hang on!“ Stiles warm voice resounded through the suite.

Derek's heart started to pound and he felt torn between his feelings of wanting nothing more than to be wrapped into the human's arms again, breathe in his delicious scent and hide away from the world, but he also felt incredulously emberrassed. He didn't want Stiles to see him this way, wearing the skin of a murderer, still being stained over and over with the blood of his victims. He wanted to cringe away, to hide himself from the gentle man who's care he didn't deserve, but he was to exhausted to move.

The loud squiek of something heavy being pulled over the marble floor could be heard and then Stiles' head popped through the opening of the ventilation shaft.

Derek turned his glowing eyes towards him and Stiles held his breath at the sight of him. For a moment, fear was written over the human's face, but then the wolf let out another low whine and the expression was replaced with horrified realization.

 _That's it_ , Derek thought. _He's going to run away from me now and never ever look at me again._

But instead of doing the sensible thing and flee, Stiles slowly reached out his hand. Tentatively, he ran his hand through the black fur and Derek leaned into the touch. He could smell the blood on Stiles' hands and anxiously licked at it. His concern decreased as he noticed that it wasn't Stiles'. Still, the human looked awful. The shirt he was wearing was drenched in blood and torn apart, one sleeve missing completely, and his skin glistened with sweat. Over and over, he was covered in dirt, his auburn hair looking nearly grey from all the ash in it. His exhaustion was clearly written on his face.

"Come on," the human breathed and carefully took hold of the werewolf.

"How did you get yourself into this position?“

He panted as he pulled the heavy wolf out of the shaft and laid him down onto the table he had climbed on to reach into the ventilation.

"Here. I'm here, it's alright. Everything is okay now," he whispered against Derek's fur and the wolf purred at the reassurance. "I got the stones. Just take it easy, alright?“

The werwolf had difficulties to keep his eyes open and just let the human's voice lure him into a peaceful state of mind as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

More footsteps came closer and Derek opened his eyes, his muscles tensing painfully, but ready to defend his human, but it was just Scott who came breathlessly rushing through the door. A woman, Allison if Derek remembered correctly, and the radio host, that Stiles was complaining the whole day about, followed close on his heels.

Derek growled as the hunter stepped closer, but she didn't seem impressed by his hostility. She eyed his injuries and then took a closer look at the bullet wound in his hind leg.

"Wolfsbane," she stated with a severe glance at Stiles, who kept a reassuring hand on Derek's neck.

"My man," came the shrill voice of Peter from where he stood in the doorway. He grabbed Scott by his shoulders and pointed at a device fastened at the door. "My man, what's this thing with the numbers?“

Scott starred at it with wide eyes and then turned back to the dj stammering.

"It's- It's- It's a- It's a-“

"No, no, no.“ Peter shook his head quickly. "That's not a-“

"That's a bomb“, Allison interjected as she had stepped closer and looked at the device.

Stiles head shot up at he declaration and he hurried over to them to affirm it for himself.

"Can you defuse it?“ Allsion asked him tense.

He examined the square bomb. He knew the type and he knew how it was defused, but that would take time, which they didn't have because the countdown was already down to ten minutes.

"Stiles. Stiles, my man, you know how to stop this, right?“ Peter pleaded.

Stiles looked at him, then at the bomb again, and then rushed back to Derek's side.

"Pull the fire alarm! The hotel needs to be evacuated," he shouted at Allison as he heaved the werewolf into his arms and she immediately ran outside to follow his order. The shrill sound of the alarm rang out withing seconds.

Stiles hurried after Scott and Peter out of the suite. The two stood infront of the elevator, the dj pushing the button repeatedly.

"Those don't work during a fire alarm!“, he yelled as he went past them towards the emergency exit where Allison was already holding open the door for them.

They rushed down the staircases, all of them panting hardly as they passed floor after floor. Derek laid heavy in Stiles arms. He knew that he was weighing way to much to be carried down all these flights of stairs, but the lethal danger seemed to be arousing an unnatural strength inside the human.

A few floors beneath them, the other hotel guests and employees were running for their own lives, screaming loudly and some of them stumbling and falling down the steps, but immediately jumping up again and continuing their flight.

Soon, they were the last ones inside the staircase, only two more floors away from the lobby.

Scott suddenly tripped and tumbled down the stairs, only stopping as he crashed into the opposite wall.

"Scott," Allison shrieked and hastened to his side.

"I'm okay," the alpha assured her and got up quickly, but he winced as he put weigh on his right ankle.

"Don't worry, it's gonna be healed in a minute.“

"We don't have a minute!“

Peter came wheezing to a stop beside them and let himself drop down to the floor.

"Stiles, man, leave me here to die. I can't take another step.“

"We have to!“ Allison urged them on and pulled Scott's arm around her shoulder to support him.

"Wait," Stiles said full of hope, panting heavily himself. He shifted Derek's weight onto one raised tigh and took a look at his wrist watch. The ten minutes had ticked by.

"Maybe it's a misfire.“

They all looked up between the staircases, holding their breath.

A loud explosion suddenly boomed through the halls and shook the whole building. Plaster crumbled of the ceiling and the sound of windows breaking clanked loudly. The elevators rumbled loudly as their cables were cut through and they plunged down the shafts. They crashed into the first floor and shook the walls around them with great force.

"Shit!“ Stiles cried and wrenched Derek back into his arms.

With new energy awoken by utter fear for their lives, the group scudded further down the last two flights of stairs and then rushed through the lobby, dodging away from the broken debris that fell from the ceiling. They finally ran outside into the californian sun, but they didn't slow down for a second. The tall hotel behind them cracked alarmingly and in a blink of an eye, the building collapsed.

The blast hit them in the back and hurled them forward. The noise was deafening and Stiles couldn't breath anymore as the air was suddenly filled with ash and dirt. He could feel the debris raining over them and threw himself protectively over Derek.

The noise stopped and the dust slowly settled down.

Allison was the first back on her legs. With a few quick steps, she had walked over to Scott and flung herself at him. He catched her in his arms and burried his face in her neck.

Stiles looked down at Derek. He shortly panicked at the sight of him lying motionless and with closed eyes on the ground, but he quickly found his pulse and let out a gasp of relief as he felt it steadily beating beneath his fingers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is now seven pm," Peter gasped into his mic. "It's time for the news. See you tomorrow for a new adventure.“

He removed the microphone from his head and let it wearily drop to the ground.

"That's the best show I ever did.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just imagine the building collapsing very very slowly, like "woah explosion I've been impalied oh right, I'm supposed to break down I'mma do it but in cool slowmo" *building finally breaks down*
> 
> And I initially wanted to write everything exclusively from Stiles' or Derek's pov, but it feels like a lot of information is lost, so here is a small extra from Kali's pov:
> 
>  
> 
> the female alpha
> 
>  
> 
> With every gush of blood, more and more energy left Kali. Her whole body felt cold, except for her throat, the tender flesh burning where the other werewolf had burried his teeth in, and her hands, which were drenched in her own warm blood. 
> 
> She wondered if she were to bleed to death before her healing factor could kick in. Of course the wound would close slowly, it had been induced by an alpha after all, but this time, she couldn't even feel the beginning of her skin knitting back together. Was it because this alpha seemed to be even more powerful than all the others she had ever met? Even stronger than Deucalion?
> 
> In the end, it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. Her mate was dead, just as the rest of her pack. Deucalion had the stones and would gain only more strength. All the emotions she felt, her love for her family, her hatred towards Deucalion and her wish for revenge, it all was pointless. She would die lying here, and she was ready.
> 
> She closed her eyes, eager for the darkness to overwhelm all her other senses, too. She was sick of feeling the hard, cold marble under her back or hearing the faint heartbeat of the twins, turning weaker with every passing minute. Even in her mind, she was still haunted by the unnerving tap tap of Deucalion's cane. Was she really imagining it or did the sound turn louder? 
> 
> With a lot of effort, she pulled away from the darkness and blinked her eyes open. 
> 
> Deucalion walked into the room in haste and obviously distressed. He rushed forward to the bomb he had left inside the room and tipped in a code to defuse it. 
> 
> Kali looked at him with hatred in her eyes. This fucker had destroyed so many lives and now he could just get away with it. 
> 
> In the corner of her eye, she could see the small gun that the banshee's assistant had used to protect herself with. Fucking big help that had been, for right now it's owner laid lifeless on the ground. 
> 
> If Kali could just muster up enough strength to get to it. 
> 
> She reached out her arm, her fingers scarcely touching the weapon's shaft, not even close enough to take a hold on it. But she couldn't let him walk away this easily. Gathering her last strength, she let her claws come out, the grown out nails finally long enough to pull the gun over. She took it in her hand and raised it slowly, her arm shaking with the effort.
> 
> Deucalion had defused the bomb at last. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple as he turned around. 
> 
> "So, now where are the stones," he muttered to himself, but froze as he saw Kali pointing the weapon at him. 
> 
> "What," he laughed nervously. "You gonna shoot me?"
> 
> No, Kali wanted to say, wanted to throw every insult at him, but her throat was to damaged to bring out any tone except for the rustling of her staggered breathing. Instead, she pointed the gun over his shoulder and aimed at the bomb behind him. 
> 
> "No!" he yelled and jumped forward to wrestle the gun out of her hand, but she was faster and fired her last precice shot at the bomb. 
> 
> Suddenly, her whole world burned up in a loud explosion and bright heat surrounded her body until, within a blink of an eye, everything turned dark and silent.


	16. the dark moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember the exams I mentioned? I had them all this week, which is why it took so long to finish this chapter, but my favourite part is coming and I'll spend as much time as possible writing, so that the story will be updated soon
> 
> this was supposed to be a small filler, describing their journey to the nemeton, but somehow it turned out as storytime with Scott. so here are all the missing plot devices. have fun!

Allison had hot-wired an unwatched ambulance and now they sped down the interstate, with the siren wailing and blue lights flashing, in the direction of Beacon Hills.

Stiles had always thought of the small town as the forecourt to hell, but he never would have guessed that the showdown of the end of the world would be set in his home town.

As the traffic cleared, Allison turned off the siren and the only sound inside the car was the howling of the motor. The sun was going down at the horizon, turning the sky into a canvas and painting it in an agressive pallete of red.

Scott sat on the passenger seat next to her, his hand reaching out toward hers and she entwined them without saying a word or taking her eyes of the street. He had taken the stones from Peter, claiming that they were safer in the care of the true alpha, and now he examined them with his free hand, holding them up against the dying sunlight and trying to grasp their power.

In the back, Peter had claimed one of the gurneys for himself. Within seconds he had fallen asleep, despite the loud squealing of the sirens.

Stiles was hunched over the second gurney where Derek was lying, who had finally morphed back into his human form. Stiles had thrown a scratchy blanket over his nacked form and took care of his wounds. The wolfsbane bullet had been really nasty to pull out of Derek's leg. The werewolf had howled and lashed out, but never brought his sharp claws into Stiles direction. Instead he clawed them into his own skin and bit down onto his bottom lip, until it was broken, too, and bleeded heavily. The human tried to soothe the wolf with his voice and a steady hand on his hip. When the toxic bullet had finally left his body, Derek had crashed onto the gurney, passing out for a moment.

He gained consciousness again while Stiles was washing the blood off his face with a wet towel. Derek watched his face silently as he worked. His strokes were gentle across his skin and the wolf felt content to purr under his care.

2The banshee said I should take care of you," Stiles finally broke the silence.

"We act so strange," Derek sighed.

"What do you mean?“ Stiles paused his movements and concentrated fully on Derek's soft spoken words.

"Every person, everything we create, we use all this power to destroy.“

"Yeah," Stiles sighed. "We call that human nature. Guess it's also the supernaturals' nature. You learned about that on the internet?“

"I'm not finished yet," Derek croaked. "I'm up to ''V''.“

Stiles let his eyes wander over Derek's features. The man was so smart and yet so clueless, so strong and yet so vunerable, and above all the most beautiful person Stiles had ever laid his eyes upon. He wanted to tell Derek everything, wanted to make him understand how important, how perfect he was.

"''V'' is good," he said instead. "Some very good words in ''V''.“

"Like what?“

Stiles cheeks flamed up under Derek's gaze and he fished for something to say. As he looked at the werewolf tender eyes, he realized that he already knew the right words.

"Valiant," he breathed. "Vulnerable. Very beautiful.“

The corners of Derek's mouth twitched up and his eyes gleamed at Stiles. The human was hypnotised by the kaleidoscope of colours.

In the background, he could hear the funky tune of Allison's cell phone ringing, but he paid it no mind. All his senses were focused on Derek. The glowing of his skin, the spicy smell of his sweat, the raising of his chest as he breathed in and out. In this moment, he didn't care about anything. Not about the mission, not about their imminent doom, only about the soft look in Derek's bright eyes as he starred right back at him.

Derek licked his lips absentmindedly and Stiles eyes shot down to his mouth. Without thinking, he leaned forward, eager to taste those full lips.

"Dude, Allison's Dad wants to talk to you.“

Stiles shot back up as he heard Scott calling for him and found the alpha grinning at him over the back of the seat. Derek was glaring daggers at him and Stiles laid a reassuring hand on his arm to keep him from eating his best friend. Even though Scott totally deserved it right now.

"Scott, buddy, I'm kind of busy right now.“

"Yeah, sorry, but he said it was important and he wanted to talk to one of his agents.“

"He phoned Allison, not me. Let her talk to him!“

"I can't," she chimmed in. "I'm driving.“

"Driving my ass," he stage-whispered so that his partner could hear his complain. "You just don't like to do the boring official stuff, you just wanna shoot people.“

He snapped Allison's cell phone out of Scott's hand and turned to Derek before he lifted it to his ear.

"This could take some time. Try to get some rest.“

Instead of following Stiles suggestion, Derek sat up and reached an arm out towards Scott.

"I don't need rest, I wanna learn.“

"Woah, big guy, don't make me tie you to the stretcher, because I will if you don't take care of yourself!“ Stiles told him and tried to push him back down by his shoulder.

"Let him Stiles," Scott interfered and handed Derek his phone, who immediately pulled up a search engine and began to read up random words with ''W''.

Stiles shook his head disapprovingly but let the werewolf endulge himself into the broad knowledge of the internet, as he turned to the phone in his hand.

"Mr. Argent," he said, his voice back to its cold, professional tone after the childish bicker with his friends. "I'm sorry that you had to wait, there were some differences to be sorted out."

The hunter didn't seem surprised by his agents' antics and just went on with the programme.

"Agent Stilinski, I first would like to salute a fellow hunter. You're a shining example of our society-“

"Mr. Argent, I'm not one to turn down a compliment, God knows my self-esteem sucks these speeches up, but I'm not a hunter and working for the WCD is just a one time mission. Now, do you have any idea when you gonna be getting to the point?“

Stiles knew he probably shouldn't mouth back at one of the most powerful men in the world, but they both had more pressing things to do right now.

He could hear the annoyed growl of the older man, before the hunter finally answered.

"I'm gonna give you to Dr. Deaton.“

"Agent Stilinski?“ came the calm voice of the head scientist of the supernatural studies.

"Make it quick, doc," Stiles urged him on and the doctor didn't delay the bad news any longer.

"The dark moon is already rising above Beacon Hills. Its powers will reach their peak when it stands directly above the nemeton. From then on, nothing can keep it from draining the energy out of every living creature.“

Stiles sighed as the pressure of their mission struck him once again. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and tried to compose himself.

"How much time do we have?“

"Three hours and fifty-eight minutes.“

"I'll call you back in four hours.“

He didn't wait for an answer before he hung up and gave the phone back to Scott. Derek was still frowning down at the phone in his hand and Stiles decided not to interrupt whatever research he just did. Instead, he leaned forward and rested his arms over the backrest between Scott and Allison.

"So, Allison said she took you onto this fun adventure, because you knew some important stuff and not only for your great skills at snogging.“

His two friends turned a deeper shade of red than the sunset.

"Dude, it wasn't initially that we-“

"Stiles, you know we're not a couple anymore," Allison affirmed and Scott stopped midsentence and jerked his head around to look at her.

"But we gonna be again, right?“ he asked in a yearning tone, his big brown eyes fixed on the side of her face.

Allison squirmed on her seat, not taking her eyes off the darkening road.

"With all the stuff that happened between us-“ She let out a stream of air and shrugged her shoulder, obviously not able to find the right words to finish the sentence and Stiles couldn't take the tension any longer.

"Well, the important stuff you know," Stiles said carefuly and poked at Scott's shoulder. "Wanna share?“

"Yeah, sure.“ The alpha blinked and turned away from Allison, facing Stiles over the backrest. "What do you wanna know?“

"I don't know. Let's start with the giant pack of homicidal werewolves attacking us and trying to kill Derek?“

Scott scratched his crooked jaw and arranged his thoughts before he answered.

"You remember these four alphas that kidnapped your neighbour? Well, I knew them from before, because they had brought me to their leader, Deucalion. He was a really creepy guy. He seemed to be blind, but I still had the feeling like he was starring right at me. He wanted me to give him the stones, but I didn't have them and even if I did have them I wouldn't have given them to some strange dude.“

Stiles smiled at his best friend's courage and his need to always do what he thought was right. These character traits had turned him into a true alpha, someone who seemed fit to be entrusted with all of the werewolf society's secrets.

"I told him that the legends said that the dark moon would soon rise and that we needed the stones to keep it from gaining enough power to erase the life from our planet, but he said I was an idiot-“

He was distracted as Allison snorted next to him.

"I'm sorry," shE said quickly. "Continue.“

"Uhm, yeah, he said that he wants to use the dark moon's power. That he knew a way to chanel the energy and become the most powerful alpha in the world. At this point, I was fully wolfed out, dude, but he just laughed at me and slurped his Scotch. But he was laughing at me so much, that he choke on his drink and at first I panicked, but then used the Heimlich maneuver.“

Stiles couldn't keep himself from facepalming and Derek looked shortly up from his phone's screen at the loud strike as Stiles' hand connected with his forehead.

"You saved the life of the big baddie?“

"What was I supposed to do?“ Scott countered a bit flustered. "Letting him die? There was still his group of alpha friends outside of his door. I couldn't take them on by myself!“

"So you saved the big baddie. And then?“ Stiles still tried to grasp the fact that Scott was too good for his own sake.

"He let me go.“

Stiles gaped at him, waving his hand in the air in a gesture of incomprehension.

"He let you go?“

"Yes, he let me go, because I saved his life and now he owed me mine. But he was very specific that he'd rip me apart the next time he'd see me.“

"So, you think he's gonna cause any more trouble? I'd prefer he'd rather not, because we're on a pretty tight schedule.“

"I don't think so.“ Scott screwed up his nose and put his thinky-face on. "While they held me captive, the werewolves were talking about how they needed the stones to pay Deucalion back. Seemed like he had pack members from the different alphas in his control and they followed his commands so that he wouldn't hurt their families, but in the end, they had revolted against him and wanted to get the stones before him, so they could exchange them for their pack members' lives.“

"I hope you're right, dude. Let's pray that we don't hear from him before this thing is over.“

"Don't worry, Stiles," Scott assured him, his face lighting up with optimism. "As soon as we have brought the pentachoron and the stones to the nemeton, everything will be alright.“

"I hope so, Scotty-boy, I really hope so.“

He turned back around to Derek, who was still hunched over the phone and had a distraught look on his face.

"What got your panties in a twist?“ Stiles tried to lighten the werewolf's mood but was only met with unamused, narrowed eyes.

"I'm not wearing any.“

"Yeah, no, I know. I mean why are you so moody.“

"Then why didn't you just say so?“ Derek snarled.

Stiles flinched back startled.

"Whoa there, someone's grumpy. Maybe you should get some rest.“

"Is that an order? Do you think just because I'm a werewolf you can push me around?“

He shot angrily forward, the blanket slipping down to his lap, and Stiles threw up his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"Derek, stop it!“ Scott shouted. He looked just as surprised as Stiles felt at Derek's sudden outburst. "Stiles is right, you need to rest. The wolfsbane's keeping your wounds from healing quickly.“

"I don't want the human to push me around," the angry werewolf spat out.

"Stiles is just worried about you, man. We all are.“

Scott's voice was soft and understanding, where his eyes were adamant. Derek met his gaze with an estimating look, before he threw Scott's phone at him, who catched it effortless, thanks to his werewolf reflexes. Facing the side of the ambulance, Derek laid down on the gurney and pulled the blanket back up over his shoulders in an aggressive movement.

Stiles was speechless. He just wanted to be fun and flirty and had absolutely no clue where their conversation had went wrong. His hand automatically reached out towards the werewolf's shoulder, acting on the subconcious need to comfort him, but he stopped himself and laid it uselessly into his lap. Derek seemed to be to much on edge to deal with Stiles' needy self right now and he didn't know how he would react. He bit his lip nervously, not knowing what he could do to make the situation better, but also not wanting to leave it at that.

Hoping that Derek wouldn't dash out at him, he leant over him and whispered close to his ear.

"I don't know what I did wrong, but I'm sorry, Derek. I just want you to be safe. And happy," he added as an afterthought.

The werewolf's whole body tensed up at the human's close proximity. His smell was concerned and so full of regret that Derek had to keep himself from turning around and pulling him into a comforting hug. He wanted to believe that Stiles wasn't like the other humans, wanted to replace his new knowledge with every small information about Stiles, but he didn't know what he was supposed to think anymore.

He breathed through his mouth to withstand Stiles' enticing scent and clenched his eyes shut.

"I'm sleeping," he huffed and Stiles pulled away flustered.

"Yeah, right. Sorry!“

Stiles glanced over to make sure that Peter was still okay and then turned back to his previous position between Scott and Allison to stare out of the windshield.

"Dude“, Scott softly caught his attention and pressed his phone into Stiles hand without another word.

The phone's browser history was opened on the screen and Stiles gaped at the list. Side after side on the topic of War were opened, brutal pictures depicting the cruelty of nations fighting their battles at the expense of innocent people. Derek's search had lead him further to nuclear weapons, war crimes, the war on werewolves and their later enslavement to serve as weapons in the battlefield.

Stiles exhaled heavily.

"You think he thinks I think he's just a tool to win this war?“ he rushed out and gnawed on his lip as he waited for Scott to answer. Luckily, Scott had known Stiles long enough to understand what he was trying to say.

"I think he knows that you're not like that. That our whole society has changed and isn't like that anymore.“

"Scott, you're part of an organization that takes care of werewolves in need. Don't tell me you didn't know that the level of racism that supernatural creatures endure didn't decrease. The only difference between then and now is that you can't own them like a little pet anymore! Let me kindly present you exhibit A.“

In a big gesture, he held out his arms towards Allison.

"A as in Argents, the royal family of werewolf racists.“

She threw a quick look over her shoulder in mock offence.

"Hey, leave me out of this!“

"Sorry, Allison, but let's be honest, your long line of famous hunters was just your whole family hating on werewolves. I know it's not all of you, you and your dad are actually pretty cool, but you can't deny your mother, your aunt and some of those cousins of yours.“

Allison scrunched up her face and shrugged her shoulder, before she nodded her head in recognition.

"Yeah, but we are not those people and Derek knows it," Scott insisted.

"How can you be so sure?“

"He's the patrachoron. He knows this kind of stuff.“

"But how?“ Stiles yelled in frustration, quickly silencing himself as he remembered the sleeping men in the back of the car and continued in a lower voice. "Could you pleace explain me what exactly Derek is, 'cause I feel like a four-dimensional object bounded by five tetrahedral, that represents the simplest possible convex regular four-polytope, isn't quite the right answer.“

Scott squinted his eyes at him.

"I didn't understand anything except for ''four-dimensional object'', so I'm going with _yes_.“ 

"Scott, I'm so close to rectifying your jaw with my fist!“

"Dude, chill! I'll tell you as much as I know. It was about, uhm, four thousand years ago when the dark moon was rising the first time. Legends say the werewolves back then were way more powerful and knew about magic, so it was pretty easy for them to stop the apocalypse by just opening a door to another dimension and cramming the moon inside. But the humans were horrified as they saw what the werewolves were capable of, so they locked them in their den with wolfsbane and burnt them down, which accidentally freed the dark energy of the moon.“

"Does your fairytale have a happy ending?“

"I'm getting to it. The surviving werewolves found some claws in the ashes. They took them with them as the weak pack hid away from the humans, because they believed that someday the dark moon would have gathered enough energy again to come back and then they would need all the power that lay in their ancestor's remains. In every generation of werewolves are true alphas, who are deemed worthy to protect our people's legends and secrets and that's why I had to learn all this stuff. However, as soon as it was known that the dark moon was returning, the remains were brought from their secret hiding place to the most capable man for resurrection. The legends always said that the pentachoron would wear the sign of trinity, the triskelion that stands for our three dimensions, to mark him. Within him would be the door to the fourth dimension, a place of power and knowledge and some texts even say that it will let him predict the future, but that's just speculation. I think that the werewolves back then were just so in tune with their intuition that some people might have thought that they were some kind of psychic.“

"Ok, pause the history lesson. So, Derek was conjured through his four thousand years old organic remains after he was burnt alive by some ancient hunters?“

"Yes.“

"Only to become a super weapon to defeat the dark moon?“

"Yes. No, I mean-“

"Tell me how that isn't history repeating itself? How is that a happy ending?“ Stiles rised a skeptical eyebrow at Scott. "Does he remember his previous life? Why should he help saving the race that killed him?“

"I don't know. But he's the pentachoron. He will know the right thing to do," Scott answered finally, even though his usually optimistic tone didn't sound very certain.

Derek winced in his sleep, his fingers clenching and unclenching, and without thinking about it, Stiles grasped his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. It wasn't fair, the werewolf had been through so much and now he was brought back into this life to endure all the pain of battle once again.

Derek relaxed at the familiar touch and it calmed down Stiles in turn. Scott smiled at his best friend with new hope in his eyes.

"I'm sure he knows.“


	17. the dead forest

The closer they came to the nemeton, the darker the world appeared. The sun had sunken behind the hills, the glowing of it's last warming beams still hanging in the air. Brown leaves fell of the trees, as if it was late fall already, and were whirled up as the ambulance scroched past them.

The streets of Beacon Hills were deserted. Most people had abandoned their homes completely as soon as they grasped the graveness of the situation and their houses stood as silent as ghost, their empty eyes watching the ambulance drive by. 

Allison urged on through the dead outskirts of the town towards the preserve. Stiles gulped as he saw the place, where he had spent his whole childhood, again after such a long time. It didn't look at all as he remembered. The once lush gras had withered. The trees' vigorous trunks looked rotten, and some of them had already snapped, as if a great storm had knocked them over. 

"This place is depressing," Peter murmured next to him. 

"I grew up here.“

Peter raised a brow and threw him a critical look.

"That actually explains a lot.“

Stiles went into the back of the vehicle to look after Derek. The werewolf was still unconcious and somewhere between Rosedale and Delano, he had broken out into a cold sweat. His wounds didn't heal at all compared to Scott's, who's ankle was already perfectly fine again. Stiles had checked Derek's body for more wolfsbane twice, but couldn't find the cause of his slow healing. 

The group was jolted in surprise as a loud clash pierced through the monotonous hum of the engine as something crashed against the windshield. Allison slammed down on the break until the ambulance skidded to a halt. 

"What was that?“ Peter screeched, one finger pointed at the blotch of blood in the middle of the spiderweb of fractures in the glass. 

"I think it was a bird.“ Allison leaned over the steering wheel and peeked up at the darkening sky. 

A group of sparrows passed overhead, flying low and slowly, some of them faltering before their next weak stroke of wing. 

One of them gave one last feeble flap, before it just dropped from the sky and hit the asphalt a few feet behind the ambulance. 

"It's the dark moon," Scott whispered, somewhere between awestruck and fearffull. "It's starting to drain out their lives.“

The group looked silently back at the dead animal, their combined worries filling the air with a chocking tension.

Allison was the first to move again. She took one last look back into the rearview mirror and then drove on towards the nemeton.

The further they drove, the more bleak the forest looked. At the side of the road, they could see more and more dead animals, squirells and rabbits, weasels and hedgehogs, and even a great stag. His impressiv horns had pulled his had down and to the side. His blue tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth and his glassy eyes starred into the depth of the dead forest, never blinking. 

Allison turned onto a narrow path and the ambulance rocked with every bigger branch and pothole. Scott and Peter were holding onto their seats, while Stiles did his best to keep Derek from falling off the stretcher. The werewolf groaned with pain every time the vehicle rocked especially hard. 

Finally, Allison stopped the car and killed the engine. 

"That's the furthest I can drive. We've gotta walk the rest.“

They all climbed out of the ambulance, Stiles carrying Derek bridal style, and walked the last mile towards the nemeton as fast as they could. At the horizon glowed the full moon in the dark red colour of freshly shed blood, slowly climbing up towards its peak.

Stiles panted under Derek's weight. Was it possible for the werewolf to have gain weight in the last three hours or did Stiles' adrenaline rush finally wear off? He threw his head back and heaved Derek further up in his arms. Without looking where he was going, Stiles' feet stumbled over a branch and he fell down on his knees, pressing Derek protectively against his chest. 

He hissed at the sharp sting in his knees, but immediately tried to stand up nonetheless. Scott stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

"Let us carry him, we can see better in the dark.“ He pointed at Peter and himself.

"And you werewolves are stronger and have more stamina, yadda yadda yadda," Stiles huffed, but didn't object as Scott took Derek out of his arms. He protested however when Scott threw him over his shoulder with more force than necessary. One of his hands stroke soothingly over Dereks back , while he pointed out Derek's bullet wound with the other, hoping that Scott wouldn't put to much pressure on it, before they swiftly moved on.

They came upon a dark clearing filled with a dead meadow. The trees around it were completely bald, their withered leaves wafting through the air and rustling between the groups feet as they approached the broad tree stump in the middle of the field. Behind the crooked branches, that reached like bony fingers towards the night sky, the red moon floated ominously. The air smelled of decay and Stiles guessed that another rotting animal had to be close by.

Scott had struggled after another half mile, the dark moon even taking its toll of the werewolves' strength and Peter had to carry the pentachoron for the last meters. 

"Put him in the center," Scott told him hastily.

"Where? Here?“ 

With Scott's approval, Peter let Derek down onto the tree trump, more carefully than Scott had handled him. The trump was easily big enough for the werewolf to rest upon and he let his tired limps lie where they fell. He mumbled incoherently under his breath, but didn't have the energy to open his eyes. 

With shaking fingers, Scott pulled the handkerchief wrapped around the stones out of his pocket. 

"You know how this works?“ Allison asked him between pants of breath. 

"Theoretically," the alpha shrugged.

"Theoretically?“

"The three stones should go around the nemeton, the power source. The pentachoron should be in the middle, then the weapon against evil should work.“

Stiles raised a skeptical eyebrow at his friend. 

"You've never seen it work before, I guess?“ 

"No.“ 

Grumbling about stupid secretive werewolves and their stupid secret weapons, Stiles walked around the stump, his eyes darting over the wood.

"Every weapon has a manual, I'm sure this has one, too.“

Close to Derek's outstreched arm, he stopped and ducked down to take a closer look at the bark. He wiped away the dirt and uncovered a mark carved into the wood. 

"That's it!“ 

Scott kneeled down next to him and frowned at the mark. 

"That's an old rune. It stands for warrior or strength. The emerald!“ he suddenly shouted, startling the others. "In the werewolves' culture the color of nature, we gain our strenght from it! The emerald has to be offered from this side. Allison!“ He waved the woman over and pressed the green stone into her palm. She cupped it in her hand and stood exactly where Scott told her to. 

The three men continued to walk around the stump and paused at the next mark.

"What are you doing?“ Peter asked completely lost.

"Trying to keep you in the dj business," Stiles told him briefly, but Scott gave him a more helpful answer.

"We've got to match the symbols. Wisdom.“

He gave Peter the sapphire and grabbed him by his shoulders, to steer him infront of the fitting rune.

Scott wiped the dirt off the last mark and threw a short glance at Allison. 

"And love and compassion. Done!“ he exclaimed with a big smile and held up the ruby.

They stood in silent around Derek and the stump for a moment, Stiles fidgeting behind Scott until he couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"What now?“ 

"Now we have to activate them," Scott said, scrunching his face insecurely.

"You know how to do that, right?“ Stiles squinted his eyes at him and tried his best not to yell at his friend. 

"Theoretically?“ Scott looked around at everyone's faces, beads of sweat running down his temple. "No.“

Stiles shouldered past him and bend over Derek, taking his face between his hands. The werewolf was quivering and sweating vigorously from his strong fever.

"Derek, wake up!“

He didn't stir and Stiles pulled him into his arms, slapping his cheeks softly. Finally, his eyelids fluttered open and he squinted up at Stiles.

"You have to help us, Derek. How do you open the stones?“ 

Derek closed his eyes wearyly and Stiles was scared that he had lost him again until he heard his faint whisper. 

"I am the heart, the muscle and the brain. Past, present and future.“ 

"Yeah, I know the meanings of the triskelion.“

"Alpha, beta and omega“ His voice grew weaker, until Stiles couldn't understand his mumbling anymore.

"Derek, stay with me, big guy," he encouraged him and shook him in his arms.

The pentachoron threw his eyes back open and looked around as if he noticed his surroundings for the first time. Stiles tightened his arms around him and tried to get his attention back. 

"Derek, how do you activate the stones?“

"I am the heart, the muscles-“ 

He whimpered before his head lolled back and his lips stopped moving. 

"Derek!“ Stiles shouted out worried, but the wolf didn't react. 

He lowered him carefully back down onto the tree stump and looked up at his friends.

"What does it mean?“ 

"I think that- it's, uh-“, Scott stammered.

"Maybe it's a charade," Peter threw in with a wave of his hand. "A game or something.“ 

Stiles grabbed him by his lapels and pulled the dj forward to snarl angrily in his face. 

"If we don't activate this stones in five minutes, we're dead.“

"Dead?“ Peter shrieked, all color draining from his face.

"Yes, dead!“

"Too late.“ They all looked down at Derek, who had breathed the words and was starring up at the sky. In union, their eyes followed his gaze and they saw the dark moon rising further, already close to standing right above the nemeton. The air was filled with electricity and tinged into a red light. They could feel its force soaking in their energy, weakening their bodies and fogging their minds. 

In a haste, they turned back to the stones, searching for a way to activate them. Stiles bolted to Allison's side and together they examined the emerald from every side. Scott held the ruby towards the sky and whispered some words in the ancient language of the werewolves.

"I think mine is broken," Peter whined and shook the stone desperately. Why did I have to get the broken one?“

Scott stopped his incantation and lowered the gem against his chest. The glint of hope had left his eyes and he slowly shook his head. 

"We're not gonna make it.“

He closed his eyes to hold back tears and let out a deep breath.

The stone in his hand suddenly became warm and as he threw his eyes open, he watched it lightning up in a bright, red flare. 

The others looked up at the flash and then jumped to his side, grasping his shoulders and shouting excitedly at him. 

"Scotty, what did you do?

"Nothing!“ 

"Show me what you did!“ 

"Scott, you can do it!“

"I did nothing.“

"What's the trick, my man?“

"Would you shut up!“

"Ok, keep calm, Scott," Allison shushed him with her hands around his face. "Calm down and show me what you did, step by step. Alright?“

Scott was still shaking as she took a step back to give him more room, but at least no one was shouting anymore. 

"I- I was standing here," he took in the exame posture he was in before his friends had jumped on him. "I was holding the stone against my chest and I said, uhm-“

He closed his eyes once more and everyone held their breaths as they watched the young alpha intently.

"We're not gonna make it.“

"That's it?“ Stiles inquired as nothing happened and Scott opened his eyes disappointed. 

He looked sadly at Allison and she gave him a rueful smile. 

They all winced as the ruby flashed once more, but before anyone could break out into panic once more, Stiles held up a silencing hand. 

"Stiles?“ 

"He said I am the heart," Stiles whispered thoughtfully to himself. "The heart loves. Scott, close your eyes!“ 

The alpha looked confused but did as he was told. 

"Now I want you to think about your mother.“

"My mother?“

"Yes! Think about Melissa. All the times she patched you up before you became a werewolf. How she always took care of you and loved you, no matter what.“ 

Scott imagined his mother's warm smile and how she always seemed to know the right thing to say. God, he missed her. He wished he were able to see her one last time and tell her how grateful he was to have her. His heart burned with his regret and the stone in his hand slowly began to heat up.

"That's it, Scott! Now think of all your friends, your beta, Isaac. Or the good times we had back in high school. Remember the time I ran my jeep into a ditch? I only broke an arm, but you refused to leave my side at the hospital.“ 

He could hear the laughter in Stiles voice and had to grin himself. Of course he remembered. He had been so worried about his best friend! The gem in his hand started to move and he struggled to keep a hold of it.

"Now I want you to think about Allison.“ 

Scott didn't need to listen any longer. Her soft face popped up in his mind, her wavy hair, her chocolate colored eyes, her cute dimples. Fragments of memories flashed through his head and he could easily envision the first time he saw her, the moment he knew that he loved her, their first kiss and the joy he felt when she told him that she loved him, too. How he wished he could make everything up to her, to have more time to show her that he could be a better boyfriend. 

The ruby suddenly flew out of his hands and he opened his eyes in alarm. The stone was hovering in the air a foot above him and shining brightly in a warm, red color. 

Stiles watched it with a confident smirk.

"Take back your positions," he told Allison and Peter. "The muscle is strong and the brain is wise. Go!“ 

Allison bolted back to her place, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She thought about her training, all the time she had spend to turn her body into the perfectly working machine it was today. She remembered the lessons her father had taught her, which she had hated back then, but knew about their importance today. How every new achievement had made her stronger, braver, ready to face everything that endangered innocent people. Her concentration was so deep, that she was surprised to notice that she had been muttering the french words of her family's codex under her breath. Bursting with energy and confidence, she opened her eyes and looked down at the hot burning emerald in her hand.

"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent," she spoke out loud and the gem swirled up into the sky to suddenly halt in mid-air right above her.

"Stiles, my man!“, Peter piped up, the sapphire lying inactive in his palm. "I- I- I'm not a genius. I'm not wise, I mean I'm street-smart, but I never graduated. I'm no Stephen Hawking! Why didn't we bring Stephen Hawking?“

He grasped Scott's shoulder, as he came closer to the hysterical werewolf, his wolf coming out as he freaked out and he spoke through his growing fangs.

"Alpha, do you have a PhD? Is no one here a genius? We're gonna die!“

Allison gave Stiles an intense look. 

"Stiles, you gotta do it.“

"What? No! Scott is the true alpha, he has all the knowledge and wisdom of the werewolves.“

"No, she's right. I'm just doing what I have been told, but you are the clever one. You're the one with the plan," Scott reasoned. 

"Yeah, but think about all the trouble my plans brought us into.“ He turned to Allison, his eyes red and stinging with the threat of tears. "Think of Erica and Boyd, what good were my plans to them, huh?“

"How many times do we need to discuss this, Stiles? Their deaths weren't your fault!“ the hunter shouted at him. "No one could have known that our cover had been blown and the meeting was a trap. Your plan didn't kill Erica and Boyd, they saved the rest of our team. It saved me! There was no need for you to resign. Everyone told you that it wasn't your fault, but you wouldn't listen to the therapists or your superiors or my father. But you gonna listen to me!“ 

She snatched the uncut gem out of Peter's hand and pushed it against Stiles' chest. Taken aback, he took hold of it. 

"You saved us so many times, Stiles, just by your quick thinking. And I that's why I always knew I could trust in you, because you always came up with something. You're the best partner I ever had.“

Tears were gathering now in Allison's eyes and she quickly pulled Stiles into a hug and burried her face into his neck. 

"You are the most intelligent man I know, do you hear me? And nothing that happened had been any of your fault.“ 

"Thank's, Allison," Stiles whispered into her hair as he hugged her back. 

She tightened her grip on him once more, before she pulled back with a crooked smile and brushed the tears of her face. 

"Your plans always got us into trouble," Scott said with a shrug of his shoulder. "But they also always got us back out of it.“

He stepped up to his friend and pulled him into another rib-crushing hug, before he slapped him on the back and let him go. 

"Thank's, dude.“ 

"Now go be brainy.“ 

Stiles saluted and let himself be guided to the right spot by Scott, thankful that his best friend didn't mention that he was sniveling.

He held the stone in a fist by his side and tried to concentrate on being brainy, but he didn't know what exactly that meant. He wished his father would have been here right now. The man was really the smart one in their family, not Stiles, who only always tried to imitade his father. How much time had he spend to learn the meanings of the police scanner codes by heart, just to understand what great puzzle his father would have to solve next. Again and again had he told him not to go through the case files, yet Stiles had done it anyway, no matter if the contents weren't suitable for minors. It was his proudest day when he got his diploma and started to work for the NSA. Finally, he could prove that his nosiness and need to rethink every problem that was plaguing his mind was useful and more than just some annoying quirks of him. All those nights he had spend studying and researching, just trying to satisfy his urge for knowledge. But it was never really enough, there was always something new to explore. His brain would just get stuck on a topic and he would not be able to let it go until he had solved the puzzle. That's why he was so good at defusing bombs or assembling weapons. He liked to know how things worked, what made the world turn. 

His whole world had fallen apart when his colleagues didn't make it out of their mission alive. That day, he had lost all his faith into his abilities. Without a second thought, he had quitted his work and ran to New York, to hide away from everyone he had failed. Yet, he wasn't able to run away from his bad conscience. Every night he dreamed of the people that had lost their lives because of his thoughtlessness. And now he was back in the same position, back at the brink of losing people he loved, if he didn't pull himself together and started to solve this problem. 

Goddamnit, there was so much more to this world than what Derek could read on the internet and he wanted to show the werewolf everything, wanted to share everything he knew with the man to see his face light up in wonder, but he couldn't do it if they were dead!

He staggered as his arm was suddenly wrenched upwards and, startled, he let go of the burning hot stone that had scorched his palm and had left an angry red splotch. Within the blink of an eye, the sapphire shot up into the air and then hovered above Stiles, as if it never had moved at all. 

Yet, the rich blue light it radiated didn't dim out. It's beam reached over the clearing and met the other two stones' lights right above the nemeton. The colors mixed flawlessly, creating a ring of a vibrant rainbow that surrounded the white glowing middle, where all colors blended into the brightest light. 

Stiles raised his arm over his face, trying to shield his eyes from the blaze. He was frozen in awe of the stones magic. Beneath the glaring spectacle, Derek was still lying stock-still, his face slack, and the sight roused Stiles from his silent admiration. 

As pretty as the lights were, they still didn't seem to do anything against the dark moon. According to Scott's sketchy explanation, Derek was an important part of the weapon, but the pentachoron was lying impassive on top of the nemeton.

He dashed to Derek's side and took him into his arms, shaking him slightly. 

"Come on, Derek. Wake up!“

The werewolf grumbled, but opened his eyes obediently.

"It's time for you to work now.“ 

"Protect life," Derek muttered, barely able to keep his eyes open. "Until death.“

"No, Derek, listen to me," Stiles urged him on. "Listen!“ He took his face into his hands and forced the trembling man to look at him. 

Derek was panting with the effort of sitting upright, but he forced his eyes wide open and focused them on Stiles. Stiles had pulled him so close, that Derek could feel the humans warm breath on his face with every desperate word he said. He leaned further into Stiles comforting bodyheat and closed his eyes in bliss as he felt the man's fingers combing through his hair.

"I know you're very tired. I'll take you on vacation, when we're done here, I swear," Stiles rambled on insistently. "I'll take you on vacation, a real vacation! Just you and me. But listen to me, if you don't do something right now, we all gonna die. Do you understand?“ 

"What's the use of saving life, when you see what you do with it?“ Derek breathed between pants. 

Stiles winced at his words. He knew exactly what Derek was talking about. All the pain and misery in the world. The cruelty and injustice that people had to fight with every day. Even the nights Stiles woke up in terror because he had dreamed once again of his own failures that will plague him until the day he died. It all could be over in a few minutes. 

But there was so much more to loose than just pain and Stiles felt it as he looked into Derek's hopeless eyes. 

He slung his arms around the werewolf and pressed him even closer. His face was burried in Derek's hair and he hoped that his voice wouldn't betray his uncertainty now. 

"You're right, Derek. You're right, but there are- there are some things, very nice things worth saving. So beautiful things!“ 

Derek was limply hunched over Stiles' shoulder. Turning his face into his neck, he took a deep breath and let Stiles' voice and scent wash over him. 

"Like love?“ he rasped and Stiles' words were filled with new vigor. 

"Yes! Yes, love! That's good, that's a good example. Love is worth saving.“

"I don't know love.“

Derek leaned back and looked up at the silently glowing stones above them. His throat felt constricted as he tried to grasp the feeling, but found that he had nothing to compare it to.

"I don't know love, I was built to protect, not to love. There is no use for me other than this.“

"No," Stiles whispered, one hand stroking over Derek's cheek. "No, no, no! You're wrong! You're so wrong. I need you. I need you very much!“

With a sigh, Derek turned his eyes back at Stiles and searched his face, for what exactly, he didn't know.

"Why?“ 

Stiles held his gaze only for a moment, before he pulled him back into his embrace and hid his face in Derek's hair. 

"Because...," he trailed off, scared of the significance of what he felt, afraid of rejection. 

From the side, he could hear Allison encouraging them and his face burned in embarrassement as he remembered that he wasn't alone with Derek.

"Tell him, Stiles!“

Once again, Derek pulled out of his embrace and faced Stiles with a furrowed brow.

"Tell me. Please. Why do you need me?“

"Because...“ He bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut, not able to look at Derek's pleading eyes any longer. 

"Tell me.“ 

"Because I love you," he let out in one breath. The second the words were out of his mouth, he felt his heart swell and a heavy weight leaving his shoulders. He knew it was true, he knew it with his whole being and his soul rejoiced with the beauty of his feelings for Derek. 

He opened his eyes and looked at Derek as if he saw him for the first time. He was everyting Stiles could ever wish for and so much more. His chest felt clenched as he thought about that in a minute this could all be over and him and Derek would have never been. If this was the last thing he could do, then he would show Derek exactly how he felt. 

"I love you.“

Stunned, Derek tried to find something to respond. He didn't understand why Stiles would say this. He was nothing worth of love. He was just a weapon, a thing with purpose, a purpose he refused to oblige as long as there was no reason for him to save this miserable world. But Stiles loved him and his heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest with the knowledge. 

Was this love? This uncertainty, the dizziness in his head, the overwhelming feeling in his chest. He couldn't distinguish between his feelings and his body's feverish symptoms anymore. As the pressure of it all became to much for him, tears started to fall from his eyes. He wanted to tell Stiles that he was stupid, that this could not be the love he had read about, when Stiles suddenly pressed his lips to his mouth. 

The kiss was firm and urgent, the arms around him clinging to his shoulders with desperate strength. It took him a moment, before he started to respond to the kiss, but as soon as he began to move his lips against Stiles', he could feel the man's tension dissolving. His whole body was aflame with the need to get closer to Stiles. His lips tingled pleasently and the warmth in his chest grew and grew and grew until he thought that Stiles must feel it through their clothes. He never felt so good, as if this was where he was meant to be, right here in Stiles' arms, kissing him. 

Everything else was meaningless for him, as long as he could stay here with Stiles. Screw protecting the world, the only thing he needed to protect was the man in his arms. He would keep him save from any harm. He never ever would to let go of him again.

Slowly, the stones around them started to turn. Their lights began to focus into a strong beam aiming at the nemeton, as they spinned faster and faster, stirring up wind. Scott pulled Allison down to the ground, holding a protective arm over her head, and Peter crouched down next to them. 

The three beams were pointed clearly on Stiles and Derek now, but they didn't break their kiss. They held onto each other through the noise and the force of the storm rising around them.

A burst of energy shot through the beams like a lightnening strike and struck with a loud explosion in the middle of the nemeton. 

Stiles couldn't hold Derek any longer and the werewolf was wrenched backwards, his arms falling limply to his sides, as a burning bright light flashed out of Derek's chest and shot upwards into the air. The noise was deafening and even behind his closed eyelids, Stiles could see the brightness of the light. Though it felt burning hot, the ray didn't hurt his skin. Nevertheless, Stiles was worried about Derek and what the bundled energy could do to him. He was about to throw himself over him to finally stop the assault on Derek's body, when suddenly it was over. 

The flow of energy stopped, the last remains disappearing in the sky, and the clearing was dark again. The three stones fell out of the air and landed with a small thud in the dead grass. Lying in the dirt, they seemed very ordinary and useless.

Stiles let his head fall back and looked up where the light had vanished. Above them stood the moon, broad and white like a shiny silver coin. The color of blood had been washed away from it with all it's power and Stiles could feel his own energy coming back to him. He hauled Derek's weak body back into his arms. He was unconcious, but still breathing and Stiles pressed his wet eyes into his neck, still unable to believe that they survived. 

A loud howl burst through the silence and Stiles looked startled at Scott. 

Peter seemed to have been just as shocked by Scott's outburst as Stiles and punched the alpha hard on his shoulder.

"What's wrong with you?“ he snapped. "What are you howling for? Every five minutes it's a bomb or something!“ 

Scott didn't seem to mind the dj's scolding, he was occupied with Allison, who had thrown her arms around his neck with a shout of joy. 

Peter let out an angry snort as no one was paying his complaining any attention and turned around.

"I'm leaving!“ 

Allison untangled herself from Scott and followed him hastily. 

"I'll watch out for Peter, you two bring Derek," she shouted gleefully over her shoulder and even though every muscle in Stiles body hurt and he felt way to tired to do anything except fall to the ground right here and now and sleep for twenty years, he couldn't help, but return her broad smile with one of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took forever! but I guess gishwhes is a good enough excuse to put everything on stand-by :D  
> next chapter will be the epilogue and then I will probably write another epilogue for the epilogue


	18. the best medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the movie ends with sex, but this fanfiction doesn't, because I'll add another chapter to wrap it up a bit more, but first: sex. enjoy.

Despite Stiles' complains, Allison had driven them right to the next hospital. Specialists had been flown in within an hour and everyone was probing at him and the others from every side. Peter seemed to enjoy the attention and told everyone who wanted to hear the story about how they saved the world, but all Stiles wanted was some peace and quiet and so he only felt a small sting from being separated from the still unconcious Derek when they finally led him into a hospital room with a single bed to get some rest. 

He couldn't have been asleep for longer than ten minutes, when a hand on his shoulder shook him fiercely awake. He snapped his eyes open, ready to pounce on whoever dared to wake him up, when he saw Isaac leaning above him and visibly flinching back at the dark face that Stiles gave him. 

"I'm sorry, but the supreme being woke up and they send me to get you," Isaac said before Stiles could raise any complaints, his wariness making the statement sound more like a question.

"Derek's awake?“ 

"Yes, and a bit upset.“

Stiles nearly fell flat on his face as he stumbled quickly out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that a nurse had left for him. 

"Why? What did they do to him?“

Isaac took a step back and watched unsure as Stiles struggled with the clothes. 

"He's fine, he's- he was just confused, 'cause he didn't know where he was and he asked for you, 'cause he didn't know where you was- uh, were.“ 

Despite his reassuring words, Isaac steps were hurried as he lead Stiles to Derek's room. The werewolf sat stiff on the edge of the bed with Scott sitting by his side, a comforting hand on his shoulder, and a doctor taking his pulse. Although his discomfort was clear on his face, he seemed to be okay. 

"Told you he's fine," Isaac said, but shut up quickly as Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. 

"You said he's upset.“

"A bit.“ 

Stiles glared at him once more, before he stepped into the room. Derek's eyes zeroed in on him immediately and he gave him a soft smile. 

"They wouldn't let me look for you," he said, still a little put out. 

"And rightly so," Stiles told him as he sat on his other side. "Can't have you running around before you fully recovered.“ He leaned forward and looked past Derek at Scott. "You good?“ 

The alpha gave him a crooked grin. 

"I'm perfect. Actually, now that you're here, I can go and see how Allison's doing.“ 

He squeezed Derek's shoulder, before he jumped of the bed and gave Stiles a thumbs up as he walked out the door, Isaac following on his heels.

Stiles rolled his eyes at his friend and tried not to blush, as he noticed Derek staring at him from the side. He tried to think of something to say, but he figured that 'I'm glad you're not dead' didn't sound as smooth as his brain made it out to be, so he kept silent and watched the doctor work instead. 

"How is he?“ he asked the man as he took the gauge off of Derek's arm.

"From the medical point of view, he is getting better. His results look good and his wounds are healing at a normal pace. He'll probably be able to leave the hospital by tomorrow. But as for his emotional well-being, you should better ask him yourself.“ 

Derek let out a snort at Stiles' flabbergasted face and the doctor smiled confident and turned towards his patient again. 

"You should stay in bed, so your wounds can heal properly. Mr. Stilinski, can I count on you to keep an eye on him?“

He gave them both a stern look and Stiles quickly nodded his head in affirmation. Then the man held his hand out towards Derek.

"I'll come by and check on you tomorrow morning, Derek.“ 

"Thank you Dr. Deaton," he answered and shook his hand without hesitation and Stiles felt strangely proud about how fast Derek had learned all the small gestures of their society. 

"So, do you know what you'll do as soon as you're released?“ he asked Derek as soon as Dr. Deaton had left the room. 

"I don't know," he gulped, looking up at Stiles through his lashes . "What do you want to do?“

Stiles pursed his lips as he thought about the question. 

"I should probably go and visit my father. I kind of owe him a visit by now. Maybe I can stay a bit, have a small vacation, some peace and quiet after all the action.“

"Yeah, you should do that," Derek mumbled and starred down at the floor as if the ugly linoleum had offended him somehow. 

Stiles gave him a curious glance, until it hit him.

"Oh, I mean, you can come with me. If you want to.“ 

"Do you want me to come?“ 

"I'd love you to," Stiles insisted and entwined his fingers with Derek's. 

With a hopeful smile, Derek's eyes turned from their joined hands up to Stiles' face, before he leaned in and gave him an eager kiss, which Stiles responded equally estatic. Their teeth clashed at first, because of the broad grins they both were wearing, but soon the feeling of gleefull joy was replaced by being content about finally being in each others arms, without any onimous threat hovering above them and Stiles enjoyed the warmth and softness of Derek's mouth. Derek dropped his hand to throw his arms around Stiles and pulled him closer. Stiles' lips were tingling and swollen red, when the need for air forced him to pull back. He was pleased to see that Derek looked just as dazed as he felt. The werewolf's eyes were hooded and his lips shined with spit and Stiles gave into his need to kiss them once more before he sat back.

"You should lie down.“ 

He flailed at the debauched look Derek gave him and started to stutter. 

"Because you should get some rest! Doctor's orders and all. And the sooner you heal, the sooner we can get out of here.“

With a smirk, Derek skidded backwards, but paused halfway up the bed. 

"Will you stay here?“ 

"Sure," Stiles shrugged. "Why not.“ 

He tried to play it cool, but his heartrate rocket up in excitement at the prospect of just being able to hold Derek and falling asleep with him, that's how fucking gone he was. Of course, Derek's stupid werewolf senses picked it up and he eyed him curiously. To avoid his gaze, Stiles quickly scrambled up the bed and flopped down next to Derek. He pulled the covers above both their heads and turned to look at Derek in the semi darkness.

"Hi," he whispered and it sounded even to his human ears loud in the compressed space. 

"Hi," Derek returned and scooted closer. 

Their bodies merged on their own accord. Their legs tangled and their arms clasped around their backs, pressing each other impossibly closer. Derek's fingers ran through Stiles hair as their lips met again for another, sweeter kiss, while Stiles hand stroke up and down his back, before they decided to sneak beneath his shirt and enjoy the heat of his skin. He gasped as Derek moved the leg between his thighs and pressed it against his growing erection. Half-heartedly, he pushed his hands against Derek's chest and pulled back.

"Woah, okay, we shouldn't do this.“ 

Derek blinked at him and Stiles just wanted to kiss the insecure look off his face, but he needed to be stronger than this. 

"The doctor said you need rest.“ 

With a huff, Derek leaned back in and stroke his nose along Stiles neck, before he kissed the sensitive skin. 

"He said I should stay in bed and that's where I am," he pointed out and Stiles couldn't help but be impressed by Derek's ability to bend the rules to his own benefit.

"Did the internet teach you to sass back at me?“ 

Instead of keeping their banter up, Derek rolled on top of Stiles and silenced him with a kiss. Stiles accepted that this discussion was a lost cause and leaned back into the pillows to enjoy Derek sucking on his tongue. 

As their kisses grew more frantic, Derek let his hips grind down against Stiles thigh, making the young man suck in a breath at the feeling of the prominent erection against his leg. He let his hands explore the humans strong and yet so fragile body and let out a moan at the feeling of soft skin under his palm as he let his fingers slip beneath Stiles' shirt. He pushed the fabric up, kissing and licking along the exposed skin, until the shirt was balled up beneath Stiles' armpit. The young man chuckled at the low whine the werewolf let out and pushed him off. Throwing the covers aside, he sat up, swiftly pulled the shirt over his head and let it drop over the edge of the bed. Before the fabric hit the ground, Derek was on him again, licking over the pulse point on his neck and biting along his colarbone. Stiles moaned and leaned into Derek, before he shook his head and pulled just far enough away to tug at Derek's shirt. 

"If anyone's got to be shirtless right now, it's you.“

He pulled it over Derek's head and pushed against his chest, until he was lying back on the bed.

"Fuck," he breathed as he let his eyes wander over Derek's muscled abdomen. "You're perfect.“

He leaned down and catched a nipple between his lips. Derek's breath hitched and his hands glided into Stiles' hair, pulling him closer. Stiles grinned against the nub and let his tongue circle around it. His hands stroke upwards along Derek's sides and he giggled as Stiles fingers grazed over a ticklish spot, but it quickly turned into a moan, as Stiles pulled back and blew cold air over Derek's overstimulated nipple. He leaned over and gave the other nipple the same treatment, until Derek practically purred and pulled on Stiles' hair to guide him back up and kiss him deeply. 

Derek pulled back and gazed up into Stiles' eyes, a lazy smile splaying on his lips. 

"I didn't tell you yet.“

"Tell me what?“

"That I love you, too.“ 

For a moment, Stiles was frozen in shock and couldn't do anything but stare down at the beautiful man beneath him, before he slammed their lips back together. 

"God, Derek," he groaned against Derek's skin and kissed along his jaw. "I love you, too.“ 

He pressed his whole body down against Derek's until there was no part of them that wasn't touching. The werewolf shifted his hips and moaned at the sweet pressure. 

"Stiles, please.“

"Whatever you want, Derek. Tell me. What do you need?“ 

With a low whine, Derek pushed his hips once more up against Stiles'. The human pined him back down with a hand on his hip and let the fingers of his other hand stroke softly along the waistband of his pants. 

"You sure? I mean, you've never-“ 

"Stiles," the werewolf growled. "I read about it. I know what I want and I want you. Just touch me.“

"Okay," he huffed, nodding dumbly, his head foggy with his growing arousal. 

He let his hand dip beneath the waistband and took hold of Derek's dick. He squeezed it slightly and let his thumb circle around the head teasingly, before he began to stroke him. Derek's hands grasped at Stiles back and his breath came out in pants. Theoretically, he knew about sexual intercourse, had read about the physical processes, the arousal and stimulation, but nothing could have prepared him for how it made him feel. How Stiles made him feel. There was a buzzing right beneath his skin and every touch of the other man made it feel simultaneously worse and better. His whole body started to tremble and sweat. The heat pooling in his lower abdomen traveled further, burning like a wildfire through his veins, destroying the established order, but leaving behind an even more fruitful earth. Every kiss was a gust of water and every touch was kerosene. 

Stiles sat up and straddled Derek's thighs. Slowly, he pulled Derek's pants down and exposed his dick to his heated gaze. Meeting Derek's eyes, he licked his lips and then leaned down to take long lick from the base of Derek's dick to the tip. Derek threw his head back into the pillow and arched his back, the sensation to intense for him to hold still. With a smirk on his lips, Stiles put his hand back on his hip and tried to keep him from moving too much. He wrapped his free hand around Derek's cock and took the head into his mouth. While he sucked and licked with vigor, Derek was trashing his head form side to side, his hands clawed into the sheets and moans falling unabashed out of his mouth. With an obscene slurp, Stiles pulled off and looked up at Derek. 

"I appreciate the feedback, but we wouldn't want people to come inside, because they think someone's dying in here.“ 

Derek looked down at Stiles with blown pupils. He didn't know how he was supposed to keep quiet, when Stiles made him feel so good. Nevertheless, he nodded shortly. In this situation, he would have agreed to everyting Stiles would ask him too, if only the other man would continue to touch him. 

Stiles stroke along Derek's thighs approvingly, before he pushed his face against Derek's groin and sucked on his balls. Derek let out a groan, before he stopped himself and threw a hand over his mouth. The following giggle from Stiles vibrated through his body and made it even harder for him to not shout out loud. 

Replacing his mouth with a hand, Stiles fondled Derek's balls between his fingers, while he nibbled up along the shaft and then took him back into his mouth. Derek trembled beneath Stiles' treatment and didn't take long until his breath became irregular and he moved his hips thoughtlessly. Breathing through his nose, Stiles let Derek push in deeper and swallowed, hi throat working around the head. The werewolf pressed his face sideways into the pillow to muffle his scream as all the muscles in his body felt like they were contracting and relaxing at the same time. His vision went blank as he came hard down Stiles' throat. Stiles swallowed as much as he could and then wiped away the joined cum and spit from his chin after pulling off. He crawled up Derek's body, who lay worn out and with a lazy grin on his face, and gave him a deep kiss. 

"How was that?“ he asked with his chin propped down on Derek's chest. 

The man's eyes twinkled whimsically as he mustered Stiles' swollen lips.

"Bada boom.“ 

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. "Bada boom?“ 

"Big bada boom," he chuckled. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and slapped a hand against his shoulder, but couldn't keep from giggling himself. He sobered up pretty quickly, as he felt Derek's hands cupping his ass. Recoverin fast, the werewolf kissed along his jaw and then nibbled at his earlobe. 

"When I've read about sexual intercourse, it also said that in a good relationship both partners take care of each others pleasure.“ 

"Derek, you don't have to," Stiles tried to reassure him, but was quickly silenced when Derek pressed his hips up against Stiles' neglected erection.

With one hand, he pushed down Stiles' sweat pants just far enough to expose his dick, which he immediately engulfed with his other hand. He kept his fist losely around the shaft, tentatively stroking up an down, until Stiles wrapped his own hand around his and thightened their grip. It felt a bit chafed with only his pre-cum as lubrication, but with Derek kising along his jaw and mumbling encouragingly into his skin, Stiles couldn't care any less and pushed down into their joint fists. He froze above Derek, as he suddenly heard a sound behind him and he turned around quickly enough to see the door hastily being pulled closed. 

"Oh my God," he groaned in mortification and let his head drop next Derek's, who didn't seem to care about the short interuption and continued biting along Stiles neck. He let his free hand glide down Stiles' smooth back and cupped his ass roughly, his fingers probing between the cleft until one reached his puckered hole and pushed against it insistently. 

"Oh my God!" Stiles squealed as his muscles loosened and the tip of Derek's finger broke past the rim. All thoughts about whoever was outside of their door were pushed aside as he let himself get lost in the feeling of Derek once again. He moved between the werewolf's confident hands, fucking forward into his fist and pushing back against his finger. It didn't take long and he was panting again, his breath harsh aginst Derek's ear, and within a few more thrusts of his hips, he came over Derek's abdomen. He let out a faint moan as he watched the white substance spurt over the other man's muscles and then weakly fell dropped down next to him, letting his fingers lazily draw patterns into the mess.

"Fuck, Derek," he said witless after his breathing had turned back to normal. He snuggled into the werewolf's warm side and closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep every second. Derek locked his arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"We should get cleaned up and see what Dr. Deaton wants," he mumbled into his hair, yet, despite his words, he tightened his arms around Stiles.

"Wait“ Stiles' eyes popped open and he glared at Derek in confusion. "The guy that just walked in on us-“ 

"It was Dr. Deaton. It sounds like he's still standing outside keeping Argent and his associates out.“ 

The werewolf crooked his head and listened in concentration to the voices outside of their room. 

"And there's a Sheriff Stilinski who demands to see his son?“

Stiles heaved out a groan and hid his face in Derek's shoulder. 

"We just saved the world, can't they give us a break?“

"Deaton won't come in again any time soon," Derek said drily and furrowed his brow as the human chuckled at his sober tone. 

"So we scared them off? Very well, I need a few more minutes before I can face the world again and I want to spend them cuddling.“

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of Derek's skin pressed to his. The werewolf sighed deeply and stroke his fingertips up and down Stiles' arm. This whole situation was new to him, but he already prefered it to the many dangerous and hostile situations he had experienced so far. 

"This is nice," he thought out loud. "Cuddling is nice. Can we do it more often?“ 

"Every day," Stiles promised. 

He didn't look forward to all the talks he'd have to have and all the questions he'd have to answer as soon as he stepped out of this room, but he felt at ease with the knowledge that Derek would be at is side. And for now he could have this moment of peace and quiet with him and he would make sure to enjoy every second of it.


	19. the ever after

Stiles stood with his hands in his pockets and enjoyed the last warmth of the sun. The air was crisp and cold in the late autumn and he couldn't wait until he was back inside, his hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea. His gaze wandered over the edge of the forest as he waited for Derek to return. The werewolf had learned to control his full shift and now engulfed himself in rediscovering the world with his hightened senses. 

Yesterday, they had been strolling through the woods and Derek's head had been spinning from one side to the other as he received all the different impressions which Stiles never even notice with his dull human senses. He had been tugging on Stiles' hand, eager to investigate where a certain sound or smell was coming from. The only way to hold the man back was by promising him to come back the next day and let him run free for as long as he wanted. 

Derek had been very enthusiastic about experiencing the things he had learned before in theory and Stiles loved seing the world through the werewolf's eyes. Every breakfast dish became a culinary experience, every trip to the store an adventure. He questioned things Stiles had never given a second thought. More than once had he struggled to explain a certain social concept to the werewolf and had thrown his hands in the air at last, giving him the unsatisfying answer "Because it just is!“ But there were other times that he never wanted to forget, like the way Derek's eyes lit up the first time he tried a strawberry milkshake. Stiles' insides had turned all warm and fuzzy as he watched Derek happily slurping his drink. His soft smile had turned in to a full belly laugh as Derek had experienced his very first brain freeze only a minute later and had glared down at the milkshake with a mixture of pain and confusion, as if he wondered how such a great beverage could betray him in this way. 

He heard rustling in the underwood and suddenly the big black wolf jumped back out of the bushes. He rushed towards Stiles and nearly threw the human to the ground as he eagerly bounced at him. The wolf's fur was covered in dirt and leaves and he left muddy paw prints all over Stiles' clothes. 

"Alright, alright. Stop it, you big goof!“ he chuckled and pushed the wolf off. 

He walked over to his old blue jeep, opened the trunk and pulled out a worn out blanket. When he turned back around, Derek had turned back into his human form. His chest heaved with each breath and an excited, yet tired smile was on his lips. Sweat was glistening on his dirty skin and goosbumps rose as it cooled in the slight breeze. Stiles walked over and pulled the blanket around his naked form. 

"How can you spend so much time out there, while I'm here, freezing my balls off?“

"The fur helps," Derek stated and then pulled a protesting Stiles into his arms and wrapped the blanket around both of them. "I'll help you get warm.“ 

"No, you're getting me all dirty!“ 

"You gonna shower with me later anyway.“ 

"Oh, shut up and get dressed," he grunted as he wiggled out of the Derek's embrace, pulled his clothes out of the trunk and pushed them against the werewolf's chest. "I wanna be home for dinner, dad's making mac and cheese for tonight.“ 

Instead of putting on his clothes, Derek stood motionless and watched Stiles with slight worry. 

"But we still gonna shower together, right?“ 

Stiles eyebrows shot up and he nearly bit his tongue bloody from keeping himself from laughing. He took a deep breath to regain his cool and then nodded his head.

"I never said we won't.“ He pressed a quick kiss to Derek's lips and then gave him a wink as he walked around the car and got into the driver seat. "Now put your pants on and get into the car. The sooner we're home, the sooner we can take that shower.“ 

Derek nearly fell over his own feet in his haste.

Later that night, Stiles threw a blanket over his father's sleeping form and turned off the TV. He hadn't admitted it to himself when he was still living in New York, but he had actually missed his old home. There were a few tensed talks he had with his dad, but they had quickly settled back into a familiar rhythm of living together, even with Derek as an additional member to their small family. The sheriff had been surprised at first as he had noticed that Stiles and Derek wouldn't accept to be seperated, but he soon treated the werewolf like his own son. 

The two had moved in with his dad right after they had been released from the hospital. The first few weeks had been a lot of hiding from the press, but after they had given an exclusive interview on Peter's radio show, the hype around them had ceased and they could finally leave the house without microphones being propped into their faces. 

Now that they could finally continue living normal lives, Stiles couldn't stop thinking about the future. His dad had offered him a position as a deputy at his department. Not a thrilling job in a small town like Beacon Hills, but Stiles was contend with facing nothing more strenuous than bag-snatchers or domestic violence, and so he had told him that he would think about it. 

Scott and Allsion had returned back to New York, but the city didn't attract him the same way it used to. Part of the reason was Derek, who had told him that he felt much more at ease in the small town, than trapped between the tall buildings of the city. Now, he was musing about looking for a small place to live around Beacon Hills. Preferably close to the preverse, because he knew how much Derek enjoyed spending time in the forest.

He walked into the kitchen to snatched two beers out of the fridge and then walked out onto the porch. Derek was sitting on the steps, looking up into the night sky. Tonight was a new moon and not a cloud was in sight, making it the perfect night for watching the stars, which was why Derek had prefered to sit outside with a blanket instead of watching a game with Stiles and his dad.

Stiles sat down next to him and offered him a bottle. 

"Thanks," Derek said and took a sip, before he looked up at the sky again. 

Stiles followed his gaze and pointed out a constellation.

"That's the great bear over there.“ 

"Actually, that is pegasus. The great bear is over there.“ He took Stiles wrist and guided his finger to point at the right direction. 

"Oh," Stiles said sheepishly and rubbed his arms. "To be honest, it all looks the same to me. I just wanted to impress you.“ 

"You already do that enough. Sometimes it's my turn to try to impress you.“ 

"Well then, impress me.“ 

He bumped his knee playfully against Derek's and leaned his head on his shoulder as he listened to Derek's hushed voice explaining the easiest way to orient oneself at the night sky. 

Because the great thing about Derek was that Stiles did not only relish in watching Derek experiencing something new, but he also learned a lot from the werewolf. The man was smart and funny and Stiles couldn't imagine another day without him at his side. With a dopey grin, he discarded the stars and watched Derek instead. Even in the barely lit backyard, he could make out the werewolf's features, every detail of him was impressed into his mind and ready to appear whenever Stiles closed his eyes. 

"You wanna move out?“ he blurted out without thinking. 

Derek paused in his recital of the brightest stars and turned to frown at Stiles.

"Where will we live?“ 

"I don't know," Stiles shrugged. "Just, not with my dad. Just you and me. And I was thinking about taking the job at the station.“

"I was thinking about getting a job, too.“

"Really?“ Stiles sat up in surprise and licked his lips. "What kind of job?“

"I don't know," Derek admitted. "But it's just somethiNg I'd like to do. Something normal, you know?“ 

"Yeah," Stiles nodded and leaned back against Derek's side. "We'll find something for you.“

Derek lay his arm around Stiles and they both sat in silence, gazing up at the stars. He could hear crickets chirping and a car driving in the distance, but his ears were tuned to the steady sound of Stiles heartbeat. He didn't know how his new life would turn out to be, but he wasn't really afraid of the future. Stiles was his anchor in this world full of chaos and no matter what would happen next, it could never take him down, as long as Stiles was by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Thank you for the kind feedback and as always, if you can correct my imperfect english, please do so.
> 
> hugs and kisses,  
> Lala


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